TEANSAT 

LANTIC 

WANDER- 

INGS 


DUKE 

UNIVERSITY 


LIBRARY 


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TRANSATLANTIC  WANDERINGS 


% fast  fook  at  the  Irateir  States. 


BX 


APT.  OLDMIXON,  R.N., 

AUTHOR  OP  “PICCADILLY  TO  PERA. 


OUT 

tael 


LONDON: 

AlTTLEDGE  & CO.,  PXRK.INGDON  STREET. 


NEW  YORK : 18,  BEEKMAN  STREET. 

1855. 


PEEFACE. 


This  little  sketch  of  the  sea-board  States,  though  a reprint, 
may  be  fairly  considered  as  the  latest  publication  on  America ; 
not  only  is  it  “a  last  look,”  but  the  last  look  at  the  United 
States,  which,  singly  and  collectively,  are  growing  of  so  much 
consequence  as  to  force  themselves  more  and  more  vividly  on 
the  attention  of  Europe — more  especially  on  the  parent  stock 
— England. 

To  those  who  are  not  violently  xirejudiced  on  either  side 
the  water,  it  will,  I trust,  appear  in  what  I say  that  there 
is  quite  enough  of  admiration  of  all  that  is  really  admirable,  free 
from  that  insipid  simpering  approval  of  everything  which  not 
only  misleads,  but  destroys  all  the  lights  and  shadows  in- 
separable from  men  and  things  in  this  beautiful  world. 

Happily  this  namby-pamby,  caw-me  eaw-thee,”  style  gives 
way  as  we  open  our  eyes  wider,  to  a more  vigorous,  healthy  tone 
between  ourselves  and  i Je  Americans ; they  know  their  own 
real  advantages,  and  in  turn,  writing  of  England,  don’t  at  all 
spare  our  defects : except  among  ourselves  we  are  only  too 
candid,  so  their  volumes  are  not  the  less  relished  on  that 
account  on  this  side  the  Atlantic. 

We  all  affect  to  run  after  and  worship  Truth,  which  stalks 
about  the  earth  in  giant  shapes  before  our  eyes  in  the  noon- 
day sun ; but  which  we  all  insist  on  only  looking  at  through 
our  own  individual  infinitely  coloured  spectacles ! The  spec- 
tacles education  fixes  on  our  noses.  However,  in  this  tiny 
volume  it  is  not  a question  of  a million  transatlantic  facts:  the 
aim  is  to  be  amusing,  with  a pleasant  variety  in  the  descrip- 
tions of  things,  many  of  them  long  since  described  over  and 
over  again.  But  these  very  things  have  greatly  changed  since 
the  days  when  a Marryat  made  us  laugh — or  still  more 
recently  when  we  were  tickled  by  the  inimitable  Hotes  of  a 


IT 


PEEFACE. 


Dickens — not  to  mention  dozens  of  other  tours,  idle  and  funny, 
or  pains-taking  and  heavy — “ sleepless  themselves  to  make 
their  readers  sleep.”  Meantime  years  and  events  fly  by, 
leaving  good,  bad,  and  indifferent  slumbering  on  library 
shelves  and  kept  there  under  the  dead  weight  of  Bis.  6d.! 
while  the  great  Anglo-American  Republic  keeps  going  ahead 
at  railway  pace ; fells  her  forests,  creates  fields,  cities,  villages, 
and  covers  the  ocean  with  her  numerous  merchant  fleets. 
Already  she  is  equal  in  power  and  influence  to  England  or 
France,  and  makes  herself  equally  felt  all  over  the  world, 
quite  as  improving,  imposing,  and  as  meddling  as  the  best 
of  us. 

We  may  spare  ourselves  the  trouble  of  speculating  on  what 
her  Empire,  already  “ casting  its  shadows  before,”  will  reach 
hereafter.  We  can  see  at  this  moment  she  preponderates  with 
an  accelerated  force  each  added  year;  and  as  they  say,  “she 
is  bound  to  go  a-head  of  the  whole  universal  world !” 


London , Ja/tmary  20 th,  1855. 


THE  AUTHOR. 


A LAST  LOOK 


AT 


THE  UNITED  STATES. 

i. 

A SHOUT  CHAPTER. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  some  six  or  eight  years  ago  we 
were  overdone  by  two  and  three  volume  travels,  and  various 
impressions  and  descriptions  of  the  United  States,  and  of  our 
transatlantic  “ cousins.”  Of  late,  however,  as  time  flies,  we 
have  had  nothing  to  point  out 

“ The  very  age  and  body  of  the  time, 

Its  form  and  pressure,” 

if  I except  Mr.  Chambers’s  book,  which,  though  very  good 
and  valuable  in  its  detailed  facts,  seems  unavoidably  written 
in  praise  of  everybody  and  everything. 

To  know  things  well  and  intimately  in  this  world  will  no- 
where admit  of  this,  if  we  are  really  bent  on  the  naked  truth. 
The  great  difficulty  for  ever  is  to  lind  out  the  simple  honest 
truth  of  anything ! no  two  individuals  ever  seeing  or  feeling 
the  same  plain  facts  in  the  same  way — no  two  descriptions 
ever  exactly  coinciding — to  say  nothing  of  eternal  and  most 
admired  contradictions  ! 

As  to  America,  her  forests,  her  rivers,  and  her  climate,  she 
still  lies  before  our  eyes  in  nearly  all  the  wild  majesty  and 
beauty  of  nature,  little  altered,  except  on  the  sea-board,  since 
the  days  of  her  Indians.  And  as  to  her  present  possessions, 
the  inhabitants  of  her  great  cities,  her  villages,  her  fleets — 
which  fill  her  harbours  and  cover  the  ocean — -what  are  they 
but  English,  under  their  new  energetic  name  of  American, 
and  another  flag.  In  an  increased  liberty  of  action,  seized 
on  and  carried  boldly  out  in  everything,  we  recognise  our  own 
selves  transplanted  to  a wider  field,  and  we  go  on  wondering 
a little  too  much  at  the  difference  between  us,  as  if  it  had 

B 


2 


INTRODUCTION. 


arisen  all  at  once  since  the  days  of  Washington  and  Franklin 
and  our  English  colonies  ! The  progression  and  the  variety 
in  thought,  customs,  and  action  is  simply  and  just  what  was  to 
he  expected  when  the  pressure  of  our  feudal  system  we  still 
cling  to,  was  taken  off.  Going  from  Southampton  to  New 
York  is  much  as  if  we  went  from  Southampton  to  Liverpool ; 
we  cross  three  thousand  miles  of  the  Atlantic,  and  find  om'- 
selves  in  another  England — New  England! — which  will  apply, 
more  or  less,  to  all  the  states,  even  to  the  Salt  Lake  and 
California— gold-diggings  and  all.  All,  all  is  English — with  a 
difference.  A language  in  common,  our  school-books,  and 
classic  literature  on  the  youthful  mind,  is  the  great  connecting 
link  of  thought  and  action.  A vast  continent,  modes  of  life 
suiting  rivers,  forests  and  coasts,  with  a polar  and  tropical 
climate,  are  mere  accidents,  altering  little  or  nothing  in  the 
American  moral  world. 

Looking  back  on  a strangely  chequered  existence 


‘ In  life’s  young  dream,” 


America  was  once  my  home — almost  my  country.  In  her 
woods  and  fields  there  is  no  one  thing  I have  not  turned  my 
hand  to — so  requisite  for  our  own  poor  emigrants  to  under- 
stand and  to  do  on  their  arrival  in  the  New  World,  the  home 
of  then’  adoption,  whether  with  the  plough,  the  scythe,  the 
axe,  or  the  rifle.  This  is  as  a dream  long  past,  when  the 
cities  and  the  cleared  lands  were  of  not  half  the  extent  they 
are  now,  and  the  population  perhaps  not  a third — such  has 
been  the  astonishing  increase  of  these  last  thirty  or  forty 
years.  It  would  be  indeed  interesting  to  mark  the  rapid 
change,  even  to  this  year,  1855,  when  we  find  they  have 
arisen  to  a mighty  power  of  twenty-five  millions  of  a free 
vigorous  people — far  outstripping,  in  many  things,  the  slower, 
ground-down  continent  of  Europe ! All  this  is  quite  incon- 
testable ; it  is  forced  on  us  every  day  in  a hundred  ways  ; the 
most  ignorant  person  knows  all  about  it.  Our  docks  are  full 
of  American  ships,  and  they  are  the  finest  merchantmen 
people  see  up  and  down  the  Thames.  They  form  the  life  and 
chief  commerce  of  our  chief  city  (after  London),  Liverpool — 
this,  by  the  way,  if  we  coidd  shut  our  eyes  on  the  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  our  best  people,  who  inquire  anxiously  after 
those  ships,  and  leave  our  shores  annually,  in  search  of  a 
livelihood  less  pinched,  less  hopeless,  than  our  little  island 
can  afford  them — nobody  can  say  positively  of  more  happi- 
ness, for  with  enough  to  eat,  that  is  ever  “an  airy  nothing, 
without  a habitation  or  a name.”  It  is  a foolish  fallacy  to 
talk  of  the  particular  or  peculiar  happiness  of  individuals  or 
of  nations.  With  a cleared  patch  (after  much  hard  work  for 
years)  in  some  section  of  the  backwoods  of  America,  our 


INTE0DT7CTI0N. 


3 


people  too  often  sigh  for  their  once  health  and  happiness  at 
home,  when  they  often  went  hungry  to  bed.  They  may  have 
a plentiful  table  in  the  woods  without  appetite,  and  rest 
without  sleep — fever  and  ague  may  have  weakened  the  one, 
aud  mosquitos  destroyed  the  other.  Both  these  evils  must  be 
expected  by  the  settler,  so  sure  as  he  locates  his  woods  and 
erects  his  log  cabin.  Even  in  the  older  states,  and  long-since 
cleared  country  of  the  eastern  shores,  men  rather  vegetate 
than  enjoy  life — and  in  the  country  lead  rather  a sullen  than 
a social  life.  The  monotony  of  willing  hard  work  eats 
into  and  puts  out  any  little  mind  they  may  possess.  This  is, 
indeed,  the  condition  of  all  labouring  classes,  willing  or 
unwilling  ; but  in  the  Hew  World  a man  works  ten  times  as 
hard  for  himself,  and  grows  surly  in  a kind  of  lonely  inde- 
pendence, for  his  next  door  neighbour  may  be  most  likely 
miles  off.  So  much  for  the  happiness  of  the  thing ; and  it  is 
as  well  to  take  it  into  the  account — no  emigrant  must  expect 
to  lind  an  unmixed  good : this  is  nothing  new,  but  it  is  kept 
. too  much  in  the  background  in  the  estimate  of  the  writers  on 
America,  who  know  nothing  of  the  climate,  or  the  excessive 
hard  work  of  clearing  land.  I should  not  glance  at  what  may 
seem  to  have  little  to  do  with  this  my  last  look  at  the 
States,  were  it  not  to  explain  some  passages  in  the  following 
■ pages.  AVhen  I compare  things  past  with  them  present  state, 
I think  notably  in  them  cities,  not  at  all  to  the  advantage  of 
them  greater  size  and  increased  numbers  in  the  present 
. day,  a ♦ery  natural  consequence  of  the  denser  population, 
the  rise  in  the  price  of  provisions,  the  keenness  of  competi- 
tion, and  the  greater  struggles  with  each  other,  very  little 
differing  from  the  shifts  and  contrivances,  and  meannesses 
and  miseries,  selfishness  and  dishonesties,  of  the  cities  of  the 
Old  World.  But  I must  not  forget  that  I am  but  adding  a 
short  introductory  chapter  by  way  of  explanation  of  certain 
passages  in  this  my  rapid  glance  at  the  more  cultivated  part 
of  the  great  American  States — more,  I hope,  to  amuse  the 
j idle  traveller,  than  lead  or  instruct  (except  incidentally, 
perhaps,)  my  readers.  I think  we  have  yet  to  be  written  a 
- really  useful  pocket  volume  for  the  emigrant,  comprising  sta- 
tistics and  directions  for  his  guidance,  showing  the  difficulties 
and  disgusts  he  must  overcome  hand  in  hand  with  the  solid 
advantages  he  may  look  forward  to — at  least  for  his  children. 
Even  in  such  a work  it  would  hardly  hold  good  beyond  four 
or  five  years,  as  to  land  and  locations,  labour  and  the  markets, 
so  rapidly  does  the  population  increase,  and  the  various 
sections  short  of  and  beyond  the  Ohio  and  the  Lakes. 

One  thing  is  certain : no  man  should  think  of  settling  in 
America  not  urged  by  decreasing  means  and  an  increasing 
family.  ■ Such  an  exile  is  but  for  the  lowly,  industrious 

B 2 


4 


INTBODUCTION. 


labourer,  or  young  single  man,  without  family  interest  or 
fortune,  with  his  axe  and  his  rifle,  and  a few  dollars  in  his 
pocket  on  lauding,  he  will  with  industry  carve  himself  out  an 
independence  in  time  ; but  for  professional  men  already  there 
is  no  opening ; all  the  cities  are  overstocked  by  the  natives, 
and  farming  is  impossible  except  to  the  labourer;  hiring 
servants  to  work  soon  ruins  those  who  dream  of  being  gentle- 
men farmers  ! There  is — there  can  be — no  exception  to  this 
rule.  Twenty  and  thirty  years  ago  I knew  this  to  my  sorrow 
but  too  well.  After  a lapse  of  twenty  years  I again  revisit 
old  scenes — those  creeks,  those  rivers,  forests  and  corn-fields 
once  so  familiar ; the  cities  and  villages  have  spread  and  in- 
creased incalculably,  while  old  familiar  streets  and  things 
remain  to  the  eye  much  the  same,  and  with  them  the  tone  of 
society.  What  follows  does  but  aim  at  a faithful  and  general 
idea  of  things  as  they  are  at  this  moment — originally  written 
as  a diary,  I have  been  obliged  to  throw  it  into  a more  con- 
densed form ; which  I do  but  mention  to  account  for  its  abrupt 
transitions  and  want  of  method — partaking,  indeed,  of  my 
own  recent  wanderings. 


CHAPTER  II. 

AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER  ON  THE  ATLANTIC. 

ECONOMY  OF  AND  INCIDENTS  ON  THE  PASSAGE  TO  NEW  Y'oSk,  ETC. 

I haedly  thought  I should  ever  revisit  the  shores  of  America. 
Neither  impelled  by  youth,  by  curiosity,  nor  by  want, — an 
unforeseen  calamity  made  any  change  far  away  from  comfort 
and  from  home  desirable,  if  but  to  change  the  current  of  my 
own  sad  thoughts.  Instead  of  taking  the  longer  line  to 
Liverpool,  I am  off  by  railway  to  Southampton.  The  sports- 
men are  in  the  stubble-fields  ; the  country  is  still  green  and 
beautiful ; but  all  glides,  like  youth,  rapidly  away.  I am  in 
Southampton  almost  before  I am  aware  of  it.  I should  have 
taken  my  bei’tli  in  London,  if  I desired  a good  one ; it  is  now 
too  late.  They  say  so  many  guineas,  with  which  five  or  six 
additional  should  be  understood : the  steward’s  fees,  wine, 
and  beer,  are  not  included  in  the  thirty  or  thirty-five  guineas 
passage-money.  The  night-berth,  too,  is  simply  a standing 
one,  either  above  or  below,  shared  with  some  two  or  three 
others  ; this  is  awkward. 

The  weather  is  lovely.  I went  round  the  docks ; but  I wish 
they  would  water  the  road  to  them  from  Radley’s  Hotel,  and 
even  the  docks,  in  dry  weather.  I could  not  admire  the  build 
of  our  steamers  ; they  have  scarcely  a single  good  point : the 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER. 


5 


Americans  beat  us  hollow.  “ That  thing,”  said  the  American 
skipper,  pointing  to  the  Parana,  “ is  a great  misshapen  tea-chest, 
just  lit  for  a collier.”  I could  not  dissent  from  the  truth  of  the 
remark.  I counted  twenty -two  feet  draught  of  water  marked 
on  her  just  out  of  dock,  and  she  then  drew  thirteen.  The 
American  liner  never  has  had  twenty  marked,  and  only  drew 
nineteen,  full  coaled  and  cargo  in.  The  same  defect  marks 
all  our  steamers,  more  or  less.  The  Indus,  Medway,  E indue, 
Dee,  Kipon,  and  others,  were  here.  Our  smaller  iron  vessels 
struck  me  as  better  models  ; the  Montrose  and  Indus  best  of 
all.  Why  do  not  our  builders  send  out  a few  able  young 
men  to  the  American  yards  to  stud/  their  improvements  P 
To  be  behindhand  in  anything  for  want  of  a little  observa- 
tion, bespeaks  a negligence  unworthy  of  us.  We  may  confess 
our  errors  candidly — a poor  consolation  when  foreigners  con- 
fess nothing,  and  will  not  give  us  credit  for  our  real  excel- 
lencies. 

I go  on  board.  Two  long  tables  fill  either  side  of  the  main 
cabin,  where  some  eighty  or  a hundred  passengers  sit  in  their 
allotted  places,  during  your  fourteen  or  sixteen  not  very  com- 
fortable days.  A steamer  cannot  be  other-wise  than  uncom- 
fortable, from  its  very  nature.  You  have  speed  and  hope — 
ask  for  nothing  farther. 

These  American  vessels  are  always  filled  by  Germans.  They 
take  them  up  first  at  Bremen,  on  the  Wesser.  Upon 
going  to  look  after  my  berth,  I saw  several  German  ladies. 
They  and  the  men  remained  on  board  during  the  vessel’s 
short  stay  of  three  days  in  the  docks.  All  appeared  liomely 
and  good-natured ; one  or  two  only,  perhaps,  could  speak  a 
little  English  or  French.  Nothing,  surely,  is  more  tyrannical 
than  custom  : — these  simple,  economical  Germans  were 
allowed  in  this  way  to  escape  the  exactions  of  hotels,  and  all 
the  host  of  snares  laid  for  victimising  travellers.  I question 
very  much  whether  the  captain  would  have  allowed  as  many 
English,  or  even  Americans,  to  have  remained  quietly  on 
board  so  long  at  the  expense  of  the  owners.  V ery  likely 
they  would  never  have  thought  of  including  it  in  their  bar- 
gain. As  to  ourselves,  we  are  always  ashamed  of  appearing 
economical,  and  ever  in  a great  hurry  to  rush  on  shore  into 
the  first  hotel  that  offers. 

Punctual  to  the  hour,  on  the  10th  of  September,  about 
noon,  we  started.  A small  steamer  tugged  us  out  of  the 
dock,  and  we  found  ourselves  -without  fuss  or  confusion 
quietly  in  the  Southampton  water,  with  full  steam  on,  but 
were  obliged  to  suspend  our  paddles  for  three  hours  and  a 
half,  waiting  for  the  captain,  the  consul,  and  the  mails.  They 
came  to  us  at  last,  loaded,  too,  with  lots  of  luggage  and 
accompanied  by  the  passengers  who  had  not  3ret  come  on 


6 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER. 


board.  The  weather  was  still  beautiful ; the  wind  fair : 
every  hour  seemed  a day’s  delay  to  one’s  impatience.  The 
captain  gave  a knot  of  us  a glass  of  champagne  ns  a loving- 
cup  at  parting  writh  the  consul,  the  friendly  Mr.  Crosky,  ancl 
some  lady  friends. 

W c sat  down  to  dinner  as  we  rounded  Calshot  Castle,  and 
passed  by  Cowes  without  seeing  the  famous  schooner,  the 
America,  at  anchor  there.  Its  late  captain,  and  crow  were 
with  us,  going  back  to  New  York.  It  seems  to  me  an  inglo- 
rious conclusion  to  sell  her  and  her  golden  opinions.  What 
was  five  thousand  pounds  to  her  owner  the  commodore ; and 
what  are  borrowed  plumes  to  Captain  Lord  Blaquiere,  or  to 
the  Cowes  squadron? — their  plumes  “fluttered  in  Corioli !” 

I thought  the  price  enormous;  but  I learned  on  board  here 
that  she  cost  twenty  thousand  dollars  building,  with  an 
understanding  of  three  thousand  more  as  a present  if  she 
succeeded. 

The  steamer  I am  in  has  good  qualities,  but  is  not  fast. 
Her  arrangements  and  fittings  are  excellent.  The  dinner 
abounds  with  good  things,  and  even  this  first  day  was  put  on 
the  table  with  admirable  order.  A gong  is  gently  murmured 
round  the  quarter-deck ; the  servants,  who  are  some  dozen 
mulattoes  in  green  velvet  uniform  caps,  and  neatly  dressed, 
take  their  appointed  divisions  behind  us,  and  are  very  clean, 
active,  and  efficient.  Besides  joints  of  all  sorts,  roast  and 
boiled,  we  have  fish,  soup,  and  many  entrees  and  liors 
d' oeuvres.  The  tarts  and  puddings  very  nice  ; and,  above  all, 
an  abundance  of  ice  to  cool  our  beverage.  Very  little  wine  is 
drank,  or  liquor  of  any  kind,  I find  ; partly  owing  to  the  very 
high  price  charged.  Most  of  the  good  wines  are  eight-and- 
sixpence  the  bottle.  Our  bottled  beer  is  two  shillings  the 
bottle.  This  is  the  steward’s  perquisite.  It  is  hardly  politic, 
nor  is  it  quite  fair,  A passenger  is  forbidden  to  bring  his 
own  wine ; the  advertisement  says  it  “ may  be  had  on  board 
and  for  “may”  we  read  “must,” 

One  thing  strikes  me  at  the  very  outset  in  these  American 
steamers,  of  immense  importance  as  an  improvement — they 
consume  their  own  smoke.  The  little  tug  was  clouding  all 
the  dock  with  her  black  volumes.  The  smoke  of  this  vessel’s 
immense  boilers  was  almost  imperceptible,  and  so  continued, 
even  at  the  instant  of  throwing  on  fresh  coals.  Why  is  it 
that  our  steamers  in  all  our  rivers  and  waters  are  allowed  to 
remain  such  detestable  nuisances  in  this  particular — in  oru’ 
harbours,  in  the  Thames  above  all  ? 

Those  who  travel  must  have  no  tender  sympathies  to  throw 
away  on  the  poor  brute  creation.  One  unhappy  cow,  torn 
from  her  calf,  continues  to  low ; the  poor  thing  is  in  her  crib 
before  the  paddle-box,  where  there  is  another  for  the  supply 


AN  AMEBICAN  STEAHEB.  7 

of  milk,  partner  in  her  misfortune.  Tliese  poor  beasts  suffer 
much  -while  on  board. 

Our  first  twenty -four  hours  finds  us  getting  a final  glimpse 
of  the  last  rocks  and  light-houses  of  the  Scilly  isles.  The 
weather  is  without  a cloud,  most  beautiful,  and  those  sterile 
continuations  of  the  granite  ridge  of  Cornwall  he  basking 
deceitfully  in  the  genial  sun.  But  sunny  days,  or  clouds  and 
night,  make  all  the  difference  in  their  terrors. 

We  made  the  passage,  keeping  on  the  Channel  parallel  of 
latitude  for  the  present,  instead  of  steering  at  once  to  the 
southward  of  west ; the  great  desideratum  being  to  get  to  the 
westward  as  fast  as  ever  the  engines  and  fine  easterly  breeze 
will  take  iis.  By-the-by,  this  east  wind  already  feels'  more 
soft  across  the  wares  than  it  did  at  home,  where  we  justly 
hate  east  winds.  We  roll  gently,  the  water  is  as  quiet  and 
smooth  as  it  ever  is  at  sea.  But  even  this  slight  motion  is  too 
much  for  all  heads  and  stomachs.  The  women  are  all  uneasy, 
or  half  ill,  and  so  are  many  of  the  men.  Our  run  has  been 
about  two  hundred  and  forty  miles  from  Cowes.  During  the 
night  we  pass  abreast  of  Ireland  and  Cape  Clear,  but  too  far 
off  the  land  to  see  it.  Coming  from  the  States,  or  the  West 
Indies,  it  is  highly  desirable  to  “sight”  Cape  Clear,  as  a 
leading  mark  for  the  Channel. 

The  Americans,  laugh  as  we  may,  still  go  “ ahead”  of  us. 
They  do  things  on  a wise  and  comprehensive  scale.  There 
are  no  less,  I am  told,  than  a hundred  and  six  persons  be- 
longing to  this  steamer ; which  is  by  no  means  so  large,  so 
fast,  or  so  fine,  as  some  of  those  of  “ Collins’s  line”  to  Liver- 
pool,  the  great  rival  just  now  of  the  Cunard  line.  This  great 
number  of  persons  consists  of  the  sailors,  engineers,  stokers, 
cabin  servants,  stewards,  stewardess,  and  their  assistants ; 
captain,  mates,' and  cooks.  All  seem  to  work  with  the  most 
perfect  understanding  and  harmony.  We  never  hear  a word 
above  a breath.  It  is  necessary  to  have  them  pointed  out  to 
know  the  captain  and  chief  mate  from  any  of  the  passengers  ; 
nobody  seems  to  want  any  orders  or  directions. 

We  have  eighty  or  ninety  passengers  in  the  first  class 
cabins,  and  fifty  or  sixty  in  the  second  class  forward,  but 
hardly  inferior  in  comfort  to  the  first.  The  only  thing  which 
marks  an  awkward  distinction  for  a brief  two  weeks,  or  only 
ten  days  sometimes  from  land  to  land,  is  the  notice  on  the 
side  forbidding  the  second  class  to  come  on  the  quarter-deck. 
It  is  terrible.  It  at  once  divides  us  into  two  castes.  I could 
not  help  dwelling  upon  this  unpleasant  fact.  How  much  we 
are  the  creatures  of  surrounding  opinion,  no  matter  how 
imaginary  our  petty  distinctions  are,  how  ungenerous,  how 
absurd.  So,  too,  1 thought  of  my  handsome  friend,  Mrs. 
G , who  went  to  Hew  York  in  the  second  class  to 


8 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER. 


economize — slie  who,  immediately  on  her  arrival,  will  he  in 
the  first  class  society,  “ the  upper  ten,”  there,  where  certainly 
very  few  of  the  mere  steam-boat  first  classes  can  get,  or 
those,  many  of  whom  I see  at  the  same  table  here.  There 
appears  no  help  for  it,  but  it  is  extremely  humiliating  and 
uncomfortable  while  it  lasts  ; it  leaves  a feeling  of  undue  irri- 
tation upon  the  mind. 

With  four  of  us  in  the  same  small  cabin  on  the  second  or 
lower  deck,  under  the  dining  saloon,  or  great  cabin,  the  air  is 
too  hot  and  close.  The  ventilation  is  capitally  contrived,  and 
all  as  well  planned  as  possible,  still  I get  up  pretty  early  to 
■wash  and  dress  out  of  the  way,  and  gain  the  deck  as  soon  as 
it  is  washed  and  getting  dry.  Now,  though  the  weather  and 
the  wind,  that-  potent  spirit  afloat,  is  charming  and  fair,  there 
is  nothing  to  be  seen  but  the  dancing  blue  waters  and  the 
clear  sky.  We  are  cut  off  from  the  world,  in  our  little 
humanity  sense,  and  hum  alone  in  our  bee-liive  upon  the 
solemn  waste  of  waters,  from  the  grandeur  of  which  we 
inevitably  shrink — 

“ Dark  heaving,  boundless,  endless,  and  sublime.” 

We  now  begin  to  talk  to  each  other  with  less  reserve.  We 
make  friendly  little  knots  in  particular  conversation.  Sitting 
next  each  other  at  table  is  one  link  to  further  intimacy ; 
and  all  takes  the  couleur  de  rose.  Thank  heaven ! there  will 
be  no  time  for  faults,  or  insufferable  tedium,  or  to  be  bored 
to  death.  One  can  act  up  to  a certain  point,  and  be  all  things 
to  all  men — if  not  too  long  at  once,  or  our  sincerity  and 
impatience  may  get  the  better. 

Yesterday  the  deck  was  chalked  for  a game  requiring 
strength  and  address,  called  shovel-board.  A certain  number 
of  squares  are  numbered,  into  which  round,  flat,  wooden 
quoits  are  to  be  propelled,  or  slid  along  the  deck,  from  a 
distauce.  It  is  good  exercise.  Other  parties  are  playing 
cards  ; and  most  of  the  men  smoking,  by  way  of  passing  the 
time.  Some  are  at  chess  and  backgammon. 

In  all  our  accounts  of  similar  trips,  I do  not  recollect  to 
have  seen  any  minute  description  of  the  manner  in  which  so 
many  people  thrown  suddenly  together  spend  their  time,  and 
the  general  economy  of  the  cabins  and  the  crews.  To  be 
sea-sick,  and  to  long  for  the  end  of  the  passage,  comprise  all 
we  hear ; as  if  there  were  nothing  to  say  or  nothing  to  know. 
In  good  sooth,  the  subject  seems  little  less  monotonous  than  it 
is  in  itself,  but  a little  information  may  be  extracted  from  it. 

Eating  and  drinking  seem  the  great  business  of  our  lives  ; 
here  intensely  condensed.  It  must,  too,  be  confessed  to  an 
Englishman  these  necessary  enjoyments  are  inconceivably 
varied  and  copious.  We  breakfast  at  half-past  eight,  a.m. ; a 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER. 


9 


gong  is  sounded  at  seven  to  awaken  the  passengers  to  their 
toilets.  A walk  in  the  fresh  morning  air  is  desirable  as  a 
preparatory,  for  the  night  is  passed  instilling  heat  to  all  those 
not  having  a shuttle  or  window  in  their  cabins.  Certainly, 
though  the  arrangements  and  fitting  up  of  the  lower  deck 
cabins  are  excellent,  with  every  contrivance  for  the  circula- 
tion of  air,  four  men  lying  within  two  or  three  feet  of  each 
other  on  little  shelves,  for  the  cabins  are  only  six  or  eight  feet 
square,  make  it  anything  but  pleasant.  The  wind,  getting 
more  to  the  south,  and  softer,  begins  to  tell  upon  us.  I often 
awoke  from  a feverish  slumber  in  a profuse  perspiration.  But 
to  our  eating  economics.  We  lunch  at  twelve,  and,  dine 
punctually  at  three  o’clock,  not  too  much  hurried.  Some- 
times we  have  ice  creams,  pears,  dried  fruits,  oranges,  apples, 
chestnuts  at  dessert,  and  wine  often,  more  or  less.  Everybody 
calls  for  it  in  turn.  Sometimes  we  have  champagne.  Tea  is 
ready  at  seven  o’clock,  when  there  is  only  too  much  of  meat 
repeated  on  the  table.  Then,  perhaps,  we  have  a little  music, 
a walk,  and  so  to  bed. 

It  is  the  13th  of  September,  the  weather  still  lovely ; our 
boots  are  well  cleaned;  towels,  water,  all  well  supplied. 
Indeed,  the  supply  of  napkins  and  towels  every  day  for  such  a 
number  of  people  is  quite  wonderful — how  do  they  manage  it  ? 

Our  breakfasts  are  as  sumptuous  as  our  dinners,  every 
conceivable  thing  on  the  table  : hot  rolls,  toast,  bread,  butter, 
ice,  eggs,  beefsteaks,  venison  cutlets— veal,  mutton  chops  ; 
fish— fried,  salt,  and  fresh ; coffee  and  tea,  both  good,  and 
milk  in  abundance,  in  large  pitchers.  It  puzzles  me  how  the 
poor  cow  or  two  can  possibly  yield  it. 

Two  small  brigs  are  in  sight  on  the  extreme  horizon,  one 
evidently  bound  for  Europe,  the  other  outward  bound.  The 
horizon  from  our  deck  may  be  reckoned  at  ten  miles. 

The  women  seem  most  affected  by  the  gentle  roll  insepa- 
rable from  the  broad  Atlantic.  Their  discomfort  will  endure, 
as  it  is  not  enough  to  make  them  fairly  sea-sick ; so  they  stave 
it  off  as  they  can,  and  suffer  more  or  less  in  consequence. 
The  men  are  all  in  groups  at  cards.  There  is  a good  piano  in 
the  cabin,  and  last  night  the  women  attempted  a little  music  ; 
but  the  rolling,  though  very  gentle,  cut  short  the  concert. 
The  piano  is  near  the  stern  windows ; either  end  of  the 
vessel  having,  of  course,  most  motion.  Many  of  the  ladies 
play  and  sing.  Some  of  the  men  are  no  doubt  good  musi- 
cians—the  Germans,  we  may  be  sure.  One  of  their  lads 
played  nicely. 

The  captain  speaks  of  the  relative  merits  of  steamers  ; that 
is,  of  the  liners.  He  says  a steamer  cannot  be  too  strong ; 
much  more  so  than  the  unhappy  President  or  the  Great 
Britain,  a sister  ship,  which  was  shortly  broke  up  as  unsea- 


10 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER. 


worthy,  and  good  for  nothing.  It  was  known  that  the  Pre- 
sident was  a badly  built  vessel,  but  of  such  things  our  paper 
public  know  nothing.  Hay,  with  all  the  parade  of  news,  and 
minute  details  of  every  possible  transaction,  how  little  of  the 
real  “naked  truth”  is  ever  known. 

We  can  only  rely  on  the  Washington  being  a good  sea  boat 
should  we  have  bad  weather.  They  say  she  is ; and  as  each 
day  lightens  us  of  some  thirty-eight  tons,  not  only  will  she 
go  faster  as  she  rises,  but  will  be  of  course  more  buoyant — 
the  first  element  of  safety. 

A poor  little  dog  and  cat  have  disappeared  since  we  sailed. 
One  may  guess  their  fate,  from  the  unfeeling  way  we  hear 
them  talk  of  the  poor  dumb  creation.  Why  should  man  ever 
act  such  tricks  “as  make  the  angels  weep?”  Dogs  are 
charged  five  pounds  passage-money.  Few  except  the  French 
are  kind  to  a little  lap-dog,  v'liose  mistress  very  sensibly 
never  suffers  it  to  leave  her  clay  or  night.  In  this  respect  the 
mrdattoes  and  negroes  on  board  are  quite  as  unkindly  and 
ferocious  as  their  master ; they  show  no  compassion.  How 
are  our  sympathies  thrown  away  on  the  miseries  of  mankind  ! 
We  chatter  of  slavery,  and  waste  our  commiseration.  We 
injure  our  West  India  possessions  in  the  name  of  mercy,  and 
act  ten  thousand  hard-hearted  tyrannies  all  over  the  world  ; 
and  in  every  variety  of  circumstance,  but  always  with  a 
“ distinction.” 

I had  hoped  our  daily  run,  helped  by  all  the  sails  to  the 
favouring  breeze,  would  reach  at  least  250  miles  a-day.  It  is 
not  so.  Yesterday,  our  bulletin  on  a card  inside  the  stair- 
head cuddy  only  told  of  234.  Bets  are  laid  that  we  are  not  in 
under  fourteen  days ; but,  unless  head  winds  arise,  even  this 
moderate  rate  will  take  us  across  in  twelve. 

I find  there  is  a surgeon  on  board,  by  mere  accident ; this 
might  easily  be  unknown. 

The  rapidity  of  action  and  smartness  of  the  cabin  servants 
is  astonishing.  Our  own  clever  waiters  are  comparatively 
sluggish.  Here  their  whole  waking  time  is  employed 
putting  the  cloths  and  plates  on  and  off  the  tables.  Glad 
must  they  be  when  the  tea  at  eight  o’clock  is  finally  cleared 
away,  leaving  the  night  to  themselves.  The  fore-cabin  or 
second  class  passengers,  of  whom  we  know  no  more  than  if 
they  lived  in  the  next  street,  have  a separate  establishment  of 
cooks  and  servants;  their  meals  served  as  regularly  as  with 
the  first  class.  Their  cabin  is  on  the  same  deck  as  ours, 
ranging  before  the  engines.  It  looks  as  commodious  and  as 
comfortable  as  the  first,  only  not  quite  so  large  or  handsomely 
fitted  up  ; things  in  themselves  of  very  little  moment. 

As  I lay  last  night  in  one  of  my  frequent  waking  moments, 
finding  the  lamp  still  burning  and  the  night  evidently  far 


AX  AMERICAN  STEAMER. 


11 


gone,  I was  in  the  act  of  “ turning  out”— for  get  up  one  cau- 
not — to  blow  it  out,  when  the  door  opened,  and  one  of  the 
black  servants  put  it  out,  saying  the  captain  forbids  any  lights 
in  the  private  cabins  after  eleven  o’clock  p.ui.  It  was  then  I 
found  it  was  past  midnight.  I was  glad  to  get  rid  of  this 
small  addition  to  our  heat.  It  is  well  we  four  individuals  go 
to  bed  and  get  up  at  different  hours.  It  is  impossible  to 
dress,  or  even  move,  except  one  at  a time.  I am  first  in  bed 
and  first  up.  A French  youth  sleeps  over  me  ; going  to  the 
States  to  learn  book-keeping,  English,  and  of  course  American 
enterprise,  although  his  father,  a French  jeweller,  boasts  of 
his  wealth  in  Paris.  Still,  he  is  for  launching  his  son  in  the 
“go-ahead”  Hew  World. 

I pity  the  young  mothers  here  with  their  children-  Some 
have  babies  in  arms,  with  no  rest  night  nor  day,  besides  their 
own  nausea  to  contend  with.  Their  husbands  appear  very 
kind  and  attentive,  but  cannot  comfort  or  help  them  much. 

We  keep  on  the  circle  sailing  track,  following  the  same 
parallel  of  latitude  ; indeed,  as  the  wind  sticks  steady  south, 
it  sends  us,  steering  west  by  north,  a degree  farther  to  the 
north.  Our  run  to-day  from  the  bulletin  was  260  miles  for 
the  last  twenty-four  hours.  All  rejoice,  in  spite  of  an  in- 
creased uneasiness  from  the  greater  swell.  We  fancy  a gale 
must  have  recently  swept  over  this  track  of  the  ocean.  A 
few  porpoises  are  seen,  but  they  soon  leave  us,  annoyed  or 
frightened  by  the  noise  and  foam  of  the  paddles.  Otherwise, 
they  will  often  gambol  half  a day  round  a ship,  and  pleasant 
lively  companions  they  are.  They  have  been  called  the  pigs  of 
the  ocean,  from  their  compact  shape  and  the  taste  of  their  flesh. 

We  have  a minister — two,  indeed — of  our  religion  on  board, 
but  there  is  no  service  ; I think  wisely,  so  numerous  are  the 
different  professions  of  faith.  Jews,  catholics,  disseuters  of 
all  shades,  and  members  of  the  church  of  England.  Any  one 
service  would  act  as  a sort  of  unexpressed  reproach  on  the 
rest ; so  it  is  better  we  should  all  silently  pray  to  the  Almighty 
Power — to  our  great  Creator.  O God ! let  me  here,  on  the 
face  of  the  waters  of  thy  mighty  deep,  offer  up  my  gratitude 
and  love,  and  humble  submission  to  thy  will ; blot  from  my 
mind  my  recent  sorrows,  harden  that  weak  tenderness  of  soul 
which  still  fills  my  eyes  with  tears  of  anguish  ! 

“ Thy  will  be  done;”  let  me  not  feel  the  misery  of  losing 
my  beloved,  my  solace,  my  remaining  comfort.  That  time, 
swift  “ stealing  from  us  every  day,”  brings  still  its  softening 
balm  to  our  hurt  bosoms,  and  makes  us  hail  the  approach 
when  “ stealing  us  from  ourselves  away,”  will  be  less  and  less 
dreaded.  How  infinite  is  thy  goodness ! 

I still  mourn  my  lost  sweet  love.  She  whom  I have  played 
with  and  watched  and  been  wound  up  in  as  my  other  self ; 


32 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER. 


the  opening  flower  to  smooth  and  give  a halm  to  my  declining 
years.  The  agony  and  bitterness  of  the  blow  is  already  soft- 
ened to  me.  I am  less  stupified  at  the  great  calamity.  I 
venture  to  think,  and  recal  past  tenderness,  past  endearments, 
past  excellence,  promising  all  a fond  father  could  anticipate 
to  love  and  admire— all  now  cut  off  by  an  inexorable  decree — 
so  young,  so  admirable,  so  lovable.  How  hard,  how  very 
hard,  to  be  cut  off  from  this  bright  sun,  this  beautiful  world, 
to  thee  while  still  appearing  in  all  the  freshness  of  its  most 
enchanting  colours ! What  time  have  I to  recreate — to  forget 
— to  replace  my  irreparable  loss  ? What  are  all  the  millions 
of  man’s  worth  to  me  ? — nothing  left ! The  dreary  fallen  leaf, 
and  falling  snows,  a little  fire  to  warm  my  chilled  limbs,  a 
little  commonplace,  and  I join  thy  pure  innocent  soul,  let  me 
hope,  in  heaven ! 

But  to  the  immediate  business  of  my  life.  Tho  waves 
rising  remind  me  of  eternity  and  of  fate — 

“ Rough  hew  as  we  may 
The  conduct  of  our  lives.” 

Each  day  the  weather  thickens,  and  we  have  more  swell  and 
motion.  All  grows  more  sombre.  Two  violins  have  been 
taken  from  their  cases,  and  a few  notes  struck  on  the  piano  ; 
but  sweet  notes  languish  and  the  sounds  cease.  People’s 
heads  are  down.  Fewer  appear  at  table,  unable  to  withstand 
the  “ send,”  or  pitching,  which  rather  increases,  while  our 
sails  are  nearly  close-hauled.  They  do  us  little  good  at 
any  time,  and  now  only  serve  to  steady  us  a little.  To-day 
our  card  bulletin  tells  us  of  150  miles  since  noon  yesterday. 
We  have  got  across  more  than  a third  of  our  way. 

Steamers  often  meet  each  other  midway,  and  one  shoidcl 
think  ours  must  meet  some  vessel,  even  steamers,  much 
oftener.  But  such  is  the  vastness  of  the  ocean,  such  the 
minuteness  of  these  immense  vessels  that  cross  each  other, 
that  it  is  not  so.  Other  causes  of  course  operate ; thick 
weather,  and  the  small  distance  of  the  visible  horizon.  Nor 
do  seamen  care  much  about  the  matter,  unless  they  are  very 
near  indeed.  They  do  not  even  speak  each  other,  or  go  a - 
yard  out  of  their  way  to  do  it.  This  indifference,  on  the 
progressing  principle,  is  not  kind  or  pleasant — is  it  wise  ? I 
write  this  very  little  at  my  ease — not  ill,  not  well.  It  rains, 
and  the  few  not  lying  down,  are  at  the  cabin  tables,  at  chess, 
cards,  and  smoking ; some  few  reading  to  pass  the  time. 

It  appears  that  this  company  is  paid  100,000  dollars  per 
annum  by  the  United  States’  government  to  carry  a mail, 
and  they  were  to  have  had  four  boats.  Finding  themselves 
unable  to  get  shareholders  enough  they  were  forced  to  give 
up  one  of  their  best  vessels  half  built.  The  Humboldt  and 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER.  IB 

Franklin  are  faster  and  finer  vessels  tlian  this  or  the  Her- 
mann, her  sister  ship. 

A first-rate  ship  of  500  or  600  tons  costs  twenty  pounds  a 
ton  building  at  Hew  York.  Larger  ships  cost  something  less, 
as.  the  tonnage  increases.  Already  the  steamers  carry  all  the 
■ light  and  fashionable  goods  between  the  two  countries.  It 
i is  curious  and  instructive  to  hear  the  Americans  talk  of  wide 
distinctions  where  we  can  see  no  differences ; but  every  craft 

[has  its  mysteries. 

The  wind  has  changed  to  the  westward,  and  is  very  light. 
Ho  thing  but  a heavy  swell  impedes  us.  The  engines  were 
stopped  for  ten  minutes  in  the  night  for  some  purpose.  I ask 
questions  and  catch  all  I can.  How  hard  it  is  to  find  Out  the 
exact  truth  of  anything ! — each  person  colours  things  in  his 
own  way,  to  say  nothing  of  the  excessive  tendency  to  exagge- 
rate. Thus  the  fast  steamers  of  Collins’s  line  are  said  to 
consume  120  tons  of  coal  in  the  twenty-four  hours ; it  is 
incredible.  I find  to-day  a much  more  likely  story — about 
- eighty  tons.  Even  that  is  enormous,  and  is  not  confessed. 
In  this  steamer  the  consumption  is  about  forty  tons,  called 
thirty-six  occasionally.  They  talk  of  not  being  able  to  get  up 
steam  enough  with  the  wind  aft,  or  if  the  coal  is  not  very 
good.  Our  run  to-day  has  only  been  22-1  miles.  The  fight 
wind  happily  draws  to  the  northward.  About  noon  we  saw 
on  the  horizon  the  steamer  bound  to  Liverpool  of  the  Cunard 
fine,  her  smoke  rising  in  black  volumes.  We  passed  her,  a 
brig,  and  a ship,  still  nearer  to  us.  All  were  left  behind — on, 
on  ! It  now  rains,  and  is  cloudy  weather.  A French  violin 
is  heard  for  half  an  hour,  hut  none  of  the  ladies  venture  near 
the  piano  ; indeed  very  few  have  come  to  table  at  all  these 
last  two  days,  owing  to  the  pitching  of  the  vessel,  from  the 
swell. 

I am  more  and  more  astonished  at  the  inexhaustible  provision 
of  every  conceivable  thing,  and  such  a constant  variety,  too, 
as  appears  on  the  table.  Yesterday  we  had  roast  and  boiled 
turkeys  and  oyster  sauce,  fried  soles  and  salmon,  soup  (twice 
in  the  day),  roast  beef,  mutton,  fricaseed  fowls,  curry,  tongues, 
veal  cutlets,  roast  ducks,  and  geese  (cranberry  jam  sauce) — 
all  this  in  the  greatest  profusion  for  some  eighty  people. 
Puddings  and  tarts,  jellies,  blanc-manges,  in  great  plenty  and 
variety.  Dessert : apples,  pears,  grapes,  raisins,  almonds, 
filberts,  oranges  ; cakes  of  all  sorts,  figs,  jams,  plums,  prunes, 
stewed  plums,  and  preserved  ginger — perhaps  a dozen  other 
things  I forget,  or  didn’t  see.  The  whole  impression  it  gives 
is  a surfeit  of  good  living.  One  day,  Sunday,  we  had  venison 
and  ice-creams  in  addition.  All  the  large  joints  and  dishes 
are  kept  hot  by  spirit-lamps,  and  all  are  in  a singular  per- 
fection— on  the  high  seas.  The  joints,  poultry,  and  fish  are 


11 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER. 


kept  in  a kind,  of  ice-liouse ; nothing  is  killed  on  board. 
Could  Columbus  but  rise  and  behold  the  wonderful  change 
since  his  days  of  scurvy  or  starvation — could  he  but  see  the 
mighty  engine,  the  “slave  of  the  lamp,”  here  steadily  at 
work,  driving  on  this  vast  body ! 

There  is  no  dressing  for  dinner,  as  may  be  imagined,  with 
people  half  sick.  To-day,  being  a little  less  pitching,  a 
Frenchman’s  robe  de  chambre  at  table  is  found  fault  with  by  a 
fastidious  lady.  The  captain,  I believe,  tells  him  of  it  in  a 
good-natured  way.  One  of  the  ladies  plays  us  a few  polkas 
and  waltzes — all  that  can  be  expected.  An  attempt  to  accom- 
pany her  on  the  violin  by  tho  same  Frenchman  proved  a 
failure.  Our  French  passengers  are  all  shopkeepers  and 
marchandes  de  modes. 

The  rain  clears  off,  and  the  evening  proves  charming,  with 
a beauteous  sunset,  llanges  of  golden-edged  clouds  fringe 
the  semicircle  of  the  horizon,  backed  by  the  crimson  glory  of 
the  setting  luminary.  How  inexpressibly  grand  are  the 
skies ! how  infinitely  varied ! lifting  the  soul  to  heaven  and 
to  God ! It  softens  that  anguish  which  steals  over  my  soul  ' 
in  moments  of  recollection.  I look  up  at  the  Evening  Star, 
and  think  it  my  bright  particular  star — my  lost  comfort, 
smiling  and  shedding  its  sweet,  innocent  influence  on  my 
crushed  spirit.  As  I write,  tears  fill  my  eyes.  I must  not 
indulge,  but  fly  the  “ luxury  of  woe” — a weakness  no  one  now 
can  understand  or  share  jn ; nor  would  I share  the  sacred,  last 
sad  memento  of  what  once  was.  Is  it  not  wise  that  we  should 
be  intensely  selfish  ? Our  own  woes,  as  we  live  on,  are  almost 
too  crushing  to  bear,  without  adding  those  of  others.  The 
most  stupid  and  callous  are  surely  the  happiest  of  mankind. 

The  swell  gradually  subsides  in  a small  degree.  On  all 
wide  seas  it  is  in  vain  to  expect  still  water.  The  long  oceanic 
wave  ever  heaves  in  ceaseless  undulation.  There  is  now 
more  talk,  more  gaiety;  the  ladies  come  out  of  their  cabins 
more,  though  still  for  the  most  part  silent,  reclining;  pensive, 
ill  at  ease.  I find  it  difficult  to  bow  and  smile  to  all,  and  yet 
feel  annoyed  at  keeping  any  fair  one  a stranger ; we  fancy  a 
neglect  and  an  inimical  feeling  in  those  passed  so  often  close  ■ 
touching,  yet  unacknowledged  ; yet  we  are  very  social  on  the 
whole.  The  Germans  and  French  are  most  so,  perhaps, 
hanging  together  in  little  coteries,  from  the  same  ideas  and 
tastes.  We  and  the  Americans  do  the  same,  but  the  facility 
of  the  same  language  has  perhaps  most  to  do  with  it. 

I am  amused  and  instructed  by  the  conversation  among  the 
pure  Americans,  and  their  opinions  of  our  writers  about  them 
in  their  trips  to  America.  They  differ  among  themselves 
wide  as  the  poles.  One  party  thinks  and  knows  all  that 
Captain  Marryat,  Mrs.  Trollope,  and  others  said,  to  be  per- 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER . 


15 


fectly  true,  but  throws  the  absurdity  or  oddness  on  a few  indi- 
viduals of  their  great  family.  Others  swear  they  have 
written  nothing  but  a tissue  of  exaggerations  and  positive 
falsehoods.  Many,  indeed,  of  the  best  educated,  allow  that 
our  writings  have  done  them  much  good,  and  effected  in  good 
manners  what  they  themselves  despaired  of  bringing  about — 
such  as  shirt-sleeves,  and  legs  cocked  up  on  boxes,  tables, 
chairs,  in  ladies’  company;  and  their  habit  of  spitting  about 
everywhere. 

Here  one  sees  all  the  peculiarities  we  have  laughed  at  ; but 
to  describe  or  to  fix  them  on  individuals,  would  at  this  time  of 
the  day  be  neither  novel  nor  amusing ; the  image  is  worn  out. 
The  novelty  of  conduct  soon  departs,  and  we  find  the  person, 
after  all,  essentially  much  like  ourselves. 

There  is  also  a positive  poverty  of  resource  and  vulgarity 
in  running  even  the  shadows  of  worn-out  ideas  and  good 
things  to  death.  Our  cleverest  writers  just  now  about  town 
are  growing  out  of  date.  We  aspire  to  something  beyond 
the  eternal  sneering  at  cockneyisms  or  snobbisms,  or  mimick- 
ing the  slang  of  the  rich  or  poor  vulgar,  just  as  one  is  sick  of 
eternally  bepraising  people  for  ordinary  qualities— rather  too 
much  the  fashion  svith  us  everywhere  out  of  our  first  circle. 
Our  writers,  with  then*  cleverness  or  finesse,  ever  aiming  at 
wit  a la  Punch,  are  wide  of  the  mark,  and  sin  against  the 
very  laws  they  would  affect  to  establish.  Consequently  the 
hits  grow  more  feeble.  The  essence  of  wit,  of  humour,  of  a 
male  understanding,  and  some  real  knowledge  of  the  world 
and  things  in  it,  is  not  exactly  fitted  to  sustain  a lengthened 
mediocrity.  Hence  the  cold  silence  or  faint  smile  in  the  few, 
the  loud  laugh  and  empty  wonder  in  the  many.  But  writers 
cannot  live  by  the  few.  Hot  to  mention  the  falsehoods,  igno- 
rance, and  prejudices  pandered  to,  if  not  religiously  believed 
in,  too  frequently.  Where  can  we  lay  our  hands  on  a work 
not  exhibiting  them  by  way  of  seasoning  ? Thus  every 
country  goes  on  amusing  itself — creating  little  paltry  gods, 
popping  them  up  and  down,  in  and  out  of  their  little  holes, 
like  the  prairie-dogs  of  the  Yankees’  far  west.  Each  gives 
its  note  and  disappears,  but  the  village  is  edified. 

Each  coming  year  Cuba  grows  of  more  importance.  The 
Americans  have  but  one  idea — Cuba  must,  sooner  or  later,  be 
one  of  their  states.  The  wish  is  father  to  the  thought ; the 
thing  is  natural,  is  apt,  is  certain.  In  vain  the  Times  thunders 
its  political  morals  to  the  world.  The  Hew  World  laughs  at 
our  morals,  seeing  how  well  we  exemplify  them.  They  think 
us  Mawwormish ; onr  cogent  reasons,  too,  absurd  as  specimens 
of  a state  virtue,  we  carry  into  action!  At  the  Cape,  in 
Cabul,  or  ilo  Borneo,  we  act  just  as  it  suits  our  convenience 
in  morals.  Words  are  infinite.  Very  good  words  may  be 


1G 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER. 


used  to  defend  and  make  tlie  worse  appear  the  better  reasoi 
in  everything.  Your  party  writer  can,  in  any  given  week 
write  round  the  circle  of  opinion,  and  so  hash  up  truth  anc 
falsehood  that  men  swallow  all,  and  sink  into  a Eabel  of  cow 
fusion.  Hence  our  obscured  ideas  of  good  and  bad.  We 
grow  stupified  in  our  speculations,  and  would  be  saints 
“when  most  we  play  the  devil.”  Not  so  the  young  and 
active  spirits  for  good  or  evil.  They  march  on,  and  laugh  at 
all  laws — all  human  laws,  at  least — that  cross  them ; and 
these  are  often  so  bad,  so  contradictory,  so  absurd,  that  one 
almost  ceases  to  marvel  at  it.  The  great  code,  therefore 
must  be  kept  intact — “ Success  warrants  everything.”  Thus 
morals  are  often  made  to  assume  any  accommodating  shape 
This,  too  true  of  nations,  descends  into  and  holds  good  oi 
private  life,  both  in  America  and  England,  to  an  extent  not 
suspected. 

W e are  so  far  lucky.  To-day  the  wind  is  steady  and  gentle 
from  the  north-west,  the  sea  still  smoother.  We  set  our 
studding-sails  again,  and  the  deck  is  covered  with  walkers 
and  shovel-boarders.  Sounds  of  a fiddle  strike  the  ear  in  one 
of  the  cabins,  cards  are  playing  right  and  left,  and  the  sun 
shines  brightly  down  on  us,  lighting  up  our  tables.  Two 
vessels  have  already  passed  us  on  the  far  horizon.  Nobody 
thinks  of  communicating  in  any  way ; speaking  them  is 
totally  out  of  the  question ; it  is  still  cn  avant  ! 

We  approach  on  this  the  18th  of  the  month,  and  must  be 
near  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland.  The  morning  is  cloudy, 
the  water  smooth,  and  all  our  little  sphere  sufficiently  alive. 

In  this  world  everything  is  judged  by  comparison ; so  I 
hear  from  a young  man  who  lias  crossed  eighteen  times  in 
steamers.  He  says  that  the  Cunard  line  is  the  best,  and 
most  stylish  in  the  cabin  appointments.  The  steamers  are  as 
fast  and  safer  than  the  Collins’  line,  better  built,  and  more 
carefully  navigated.  From  the  Americans  I only  hear  of 
Collins’s  steamers  being  the  fastest.  They  arc  both,  just 
now,  ten  pounds  dearer  to  cross  in,  but  are  coming  down  to 
thirty  pounds  or  guineas. 

Surely  this  sum,  after  all,  is  enormous  compared  with  the 
short-passage  steamers  among  ourselves  or  on  the  American 
waters.  We  are  told,  however,  that  they  are  often  losing 
concerns  ; the  four  or  five  thousand  pounds  passage-money 
being  swallowed  up  in  losses,  in  expense,  freights,  and  so  on. 
Small  consolation  to  idle  travellers. 

The  captain  affects  to  be  dissatisfied  with  even  250  miles  a 
day  of  twenty-four  hours,  consuming  only  forty  tons  of  coals, 
let  us  suppose.  The  Collins’  line  vessels  consumes  eighty 
.tons  a day,  and  gains  on  the  whole  perhaps  only  one  or  two 
days  out  of  the  twelve  or  thirteen  the  passage  is  now  reduced 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER. 


17 


i to;  it  is  hardly  fair  on  this  “Ocean”  line.  One  thing  is 
certain,  our  engines  work  very  smoothly  and  steadily,  -with 
: little  trembling,  not  so  much  as  with  the  more  powerful 

• steamers  from  Liverpool.  We  now  wind  the  evening  up 
: with  a duet  of  fiddles  playing  “ nigger”  tunes,  “ Susanna 

• don’t  you  Cry,”  “Lucy  Long,”  at  which  there  is  boisterous 
: mock  applause.  At  starting  we  drew  nineteen  feet  of  water 
t — one  reason  why  the  engines  could  not  drive  us  beyond  ten 
i knots  the  hour,  and  barely  that,  without  the  help  of  the  sails ; 

we  are  much  lighter  now. 

During  the  night  of  this  day,  the  19th,  we  have  been  run- 
i ning  across  the  Banks.  We  encountered  drizzle  and  fog,  but 
. not  very  intense.  It  clears  off,  the  breeze  becoming  gentle 
: and  fair  from  the  north.  We  pass  two  ships  at  a distance, 

: steering  the  same  way.  Them  sails  shine  cheerfully  in  the 
sun.  The  sea,  too,  is  comparatively  smooth,  and  all  our  little 
r world  very  pleasant  and  lively.  The  game  of  “ shovel-board” 

1 is  again  much  in  vogue.  The  rim  at  noon  announced  250 
miles,  having  nearly,  if  not  quite,  crossed  the  Banks.  The 
‘ air  is  cool;  and,  as  we  are  now  steering  west  south-west,  we 
1 shall  run  into  warmer  air ; not  that  it  is  at  all  necessary, 
for  this  cooler  weather  gives  us  comfortable  nights  in  our 
close  cabins. 

After  a night  of  rain  the  wind  is  round  for  the  first  time 
fresh  against  us  from  the  south-west,  bringing  warm  sunshine, 
but  more  pitching,  and  the  late  smooth  sea  by  degrees,  but 
perceptibly  enough,  piles  up  unpleasantly;  many  heads  are 
down,  and  pensive  people  in  reclining  positions.  What  crea- 
tures of  habit  we  are ! I constantly  see  and  hear  things 
unmoved  which  certainly  at  home  would  have  disgusted  me. 
Then,  again,  I find  an  extreme  difficulty  in  getting  at  the 
real  unvarnished  truth  of  the  most  ordinary  occurrence.  One 
must  see  with  one’s  own  eyes,  or  be  wide  of  the  mark ; every- 
thing is  described  here  in  hyperbole — everything  monstrously 
detracted  from  or  exaggerated.  How  easy  it  is  to  lie  like 
truth,  and  deceive  under  the  garb  of  frankness  itself — whence 
this  proneness  to  escape  from  the  “ modesty  of  nature  ?” 

■ Besides  all  this,  let  any  man  with  some  of  life’s  poetry,  the 
beauty  of  earth  and  heaven’s  own  pure  images  in  his  mind, 
still  dreaming  of  disinterested,  innocent  moral  influences, 
take  a passage  across  the  broad  Atlantic.  Hot  the  terrestrial 
world’s  blind  and  most  fervid  adoration  of  the  golden  calf  can 
ever  have  given  him  so  clear  an  idea  of  the  potent  spell  in  all 
its  minute  workings,  as  at  the  two  long  tables  of  a steamer. 
Let  Crcesuses  and  -Rothschilds  go  about  the  earth  aud  water ! 
We  should  only  be  rich,  “very.”  That  is  enough.  Be  care- 
less, liberal  to  extravagance,  that  is  the  only  virtue.  All  look 
up  to,  or  down  on  you,  accordingly.  They  scan  your 

c 


18 


AN  AMERICAN  STEA3IEK. 


every  bottle  of  champagne,  ancl  sentence  you  accordingly. 
Only  spare  your  breath  or  your  purse,  and  you  are  “ poor 
indeed.”  In  this  feeling  I observe  the  "waiters  strictly 
partake,  and  measure  the  “ orders”  pari  passu  with  their 
own  growing  expectancies  in  vails.  This  menial  greedi- 
ness, common  enough  everywhere,  is  here  concentrated 
into  an  intensity  enough  to  pitch  to  limbo  any  foredoomed 
economy  of  a passenger.  The  hateful  word  with  all  the 
household  virtues,  is  the  abhorred  of  hotels  and  steam- 
boats. The  intimate,  the  agreeable,  the  pleasant,  all  drag 
one  away,  and  dive  into  your  purse.  The  shameful  price  of 
wines  here  that  pay  no  duty  sets  me  on  these  thoughts.  We 
take  wine  with  each  other,  and  play  the  “ handsome we 
must  set  down  at  least  six  or  eight  guineas  per  head  for 
twelve  or  fourteen  days’  passage.  If  we  get  off  for  half,  it 
will  never  ensure  us  “ golden”  opinions,  nor  permit  us  to 
escape  a shrug  of  pity. 

In  our  own  Cunard  line,  I understand  that  the  cost  of 
wine,  and  vice  of  gambling  besides,  is  sometimes  carried  to 
an  enormous  excess.  On  one  occasion  a gallant  officer  gave 
a wine  or  champagne  wind-up  to  the  dinner.  Each  man  had 
three  pint  bottles  forced  on  him  to  get  rid  of.  The  scene  was 
a sort  of  saturnalia — a bacchanalian  madness.  Some  few,  it 
was  said,  washed  their  hands  in  what  they  could  no  longer 
force  down  their  throats.  "What  a degraded  animal  at  times 
is  man ; and  yet  with  what  a lenient  eye  do  we  look  on  his 
coarsest  excesses.  The  “ stirrup  cup”  and  hard  drinking,  still 
lingering  in  the  north  of  our  island,  are  out-Heroded  in  these 
passages  over  the  ocean. 

If  I am  to  believe  all  I hear,  the  temperance  mania  of  a 
section  of  the  Americans  is  losing,  not  gaining  ground,  even 
among  their  shipping.  It  is  certain,  whatever  rules  their  sea- 
captains  make,  they  seldom  gain  a proselyte  among  their 
seamen.  These  only  remain  sober  per  force  for  the  voyage, 
to  plunge  into  accumulated  drunkenness  the  moment  they 
arrive  in  port.  The  short  abstinence  and  lack  of  stimulus 
seems  to  increase  their  love  of  drinking  tenfold.  It  is  hardly 
wise  to  forbid  a reasonable  quantity  afloat ; for,  besides  that 
the  ship’s  water  requires  some  little  corrections  for  health’s 
sake,  and  habit  has  made  it  a positive  comfort,  it  is  felt  to 
sweeten  the  seaman’s  hard  fare.  For  hard  is  poor  Jack’s 
fare,  hard  his  work,  hard  his  life.  “We  would  wish  to  see 
seamen  enlightened  and  critical,”  say  theoretic  persons — 
absurd ! “ No  ; let  ignorance  and  folly  be  the  seaman’s  lot ; 

life  would,  indeed,  be  a sea  purgatory  if  they  were  better  off 
than  they  are.  What  have  they  to  do  with  the  delicacies  and 
amenities  of  this  world  P”  Wc  laugh  and  wink  at  their  follies 
and  excesses — and  well  we  may.  They  are  the  helots  of  the 


AN  AMERICAN  STEAMER. 


19 


civilized  world,  and  in  no  nation  so  vilely  considered  as  in  the 
United  States.  The  name  “free  citizen”  applied  to  them 
seems,  indeed,  a mockery.  Afloat  or  on  shore,  their  doom  is 
cast.  Thousands  of  them  upon  thousands  may  envy  the 
hardest  lot  of  the  worst-used  Virginian  or  Alabama  slave, 
with  Dr.  Johnson’s  definition  of  a ship  to  hoot.  With  us, 
whether  in  the  navy,  merchant  service,  or  coasting  trade,  it  is 
still  too  much  the  same.  We  tickle  them  with  stage  clap- 
traps and  after-dinner  speeches — empty,  unmeaning  words. 

Let  this  go  on  as  it  has  done,  and  England’s  fate  is  sealed. 
She  will  sink  to  rise  no  more  under  the  Union  Jack.  What 
less  does  such  ingratitude  deserve!  We  build  clumsy  men- 
of-war,  steamers  particularly,  at  a most  extravagant  rate  ; give 
promotion  by  favour  to  a class  ; neglect  our  old  veterans  sunk 
into  oblivion ; allow  pert  youth  to  usurp  all  the  best  posts 
under  ministerial  influence,  and  the  friendship,  interest,  or 
caprice  of  some  first  lord,  while  our  sailors  are  ill  paid  and 
neglected.  A mean,  unwise  “ economy”  masks  an  ignorant 
or  extravagant  expenditure,  and  abroad  and  at  home  forms  a 
i considerable  episode  to  this  precious  “ History  of  our  own 
Times.”  All  this  is  as  plain  and  true  as  the  sun  at  noon. 
Cut  up  and  commented  on  in  some  of  our  papers  every  day 
in  the  week  with  as  much  coolness  as  if  they  were  talking  of 
■ the  government  of  the  moon ! I rave ; what  have  I to  do 
with  affairs  of  state — an  obscure  individual,  of  whom  nothing 
is  asked  or  expected  but  to  pay  his  taxes  at  home  and  thank 
God  things  are  no  worse  ? I am  now  far  away  on  the  blue 
i ocean.  Sharks  and  dolphins  dream  not  of  man’s  grievances, 
nor  fret  themselves  about  administrative  incapacities.  The 
weather  is  fine ; it  is  Sunday,  and  we  have  divine  service  for 
) the  first  time.  Most  of  us  attend,  and  thank  God  for  His 
« mercies  so  far.  The  sermon  is  to  the  purpose,  whether  our 
■minds  are  or  not.  We  drink  champagne  with  each  other 
afterwards  at  the  captain’s  end  of  the  table.  The  ship  pitches, 
hut  not  much,  and  we  have  run  226  miles  in  the  last  twenty - 
ifiour  hours.  Our  arrival  is  predicted  to  an  hour,  and  several 
,-sail  pass  us. 

A fine  pilot  Hew  York  schooner  ran  close  to  us.  We  are  a 

I hundred  leagues  east  of  Hew  York,  but  leave  him  behind  us 
with  difficulty,  for  these  craft  sail  like  the  wind ! The  engines 
have  only  been  stopped  twice  or  three  times  the  whole  way 
over,  for  about  twenty  minutes  each  time.  The  passengers 
begin  to  look  after  their  chests  and  portmanteaus.  The 
Custom-house  searchers  are  spoken  of  as  very  mild. 

We  have  a fine  fair  wind.  All  the  world  is  on  the  qui  vive, 
dressed  smartly  and  smiling.  At  nine  o’clock  we  see  the  high- 
land of  Never-Sinle,  not  at  all  high;  and  by  twelve  we  pass  the 


20 


ARRIVE  AT  NEW  YORK. 


lighthouses  on  Sandy  Hook,  with  the  J ersey  white,  sandy, 
low  shore,  and  then  bear  away  for  the  “ Harrows,’  between 
Staten  Island  and  Tony  Island,  where  three-tier  batteries, 
built  of  brick,  command  the  pass. 

One  is  particularly  struck  with  the  numerous  pretty  white 
villas  and  cottages  ornee  on  both  islands.  On  Staten  Isle, 
about  the  quarantine  station,  where  the  health  officer  comes 
on  board.  This  is  a large  village,  increased  a hundredfold 
since  I last  saw  it  twenty  year’s  ago.  Here,  on  both  sides,  the 
opulent  citizens  of  Hew  York  have  their  country-houses. 
Some  of  our  writers  have  described  the  luxuriant  lives  they  j 
lead  in  these  rural  retreats. 

Inside  Sandy  Hook,  and  over  the  whole  face  of  the  bay, 
may  now  be  seen  innumerable  small  craft,  tug-steamers, 
passage-steamers,  ships  home  and  outward  bound  in  vast 
variety  and  profusion.  It  is  this  which  makes  tli6  approach  to 
New  York  so  wonderful  to  quiet  Europeans.  If  in  England, 
from  Sheerness  to  London  Bridge,  our  Thames  is  full,  lively, 
busy,  beyond,  far  beyond  all  the  European  world ; here  we ; 
find  ourselves  outdone.  As  we  approach  nearer  and  nearer  to 
the  city,  the  forests  of  masts  on  both  sides,  in  the  Hudson  ■ 
and  East  rivers,  are  astonishing.  On  the  North,  or  Hudson 
river  side,  it  is  a forest  of  steam  fimnels.  About  one  o’clock, 
we  hauled  into  a “slip,”  and  made  an  addition  to  this  vast 
number.  Setting  aside  the  innumerable  steamers  out  and  in, 
the  beauty  and  size  of  the  ships  themselves  is  admirable. 

We  have  some  rather  fine  Indiamen,  but,  speaking  gene- 
rally, I am  sorry  to  remark  the  Americans  surpass  us.  To  say 
nothing  of  their  unfettered  and  indomitable  activity,  they  will !.■ 
make  two  voyages  to  our  one.  They  outsail  us  as  the  clipper 
yacht  America  (whose  captain  now  piloted  us  in)  did  our  club 
yachts  at  Cowes. 


CHATTEL  III. 

NEW  YORK— ITS  HOTELS,  WATERWORKS,  AND  THINGS 

IN  GENERAL.  | 

New  York  has  been  so  often  described  as  to  its  general 
features  that  one  is  afraid  to  say  another  word  about  the 
matter ; but  descriptions  never  do  convey  any  positive  idea  ; 
for  instance,  its  bay,  its  two  great  rivers — the  lowland  each 
side,  itself  the  peninsula  between,  with  its  forests  of  ships,: 
masts,  and  steam  fimnels  on  either  side — writers  have  com- 
pared the  whole  to  the  Bay  of  Naples  ! others  to  Liverpool — 
“Very  like  a whale!” — no,  it  is  like  nothing  on  earth  but 
itself.  While  in  the  city  itself  immense  changes  have  takenj 
place  these  last  twenty  years — and  go  on  changing.  But  wel 


NEW  TOEK — CUSTOM  HOTTSE. 


21 


are  hauling  into  the  slip  of  the  mail-steamers  (our  Cunard  line 
are  compelled,  for  want  of  room,  to  lay  over  at  Jersey  City 
whaiwes,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river). 

Our  joy  at  arriving  is  already  damped  by  the  rain;  by  the 
confusion  and  crowd  we  form,  with  our  trunks  on  the  quarter- 
deck  ; knocked  about  and  “ not  cared  for”  by  either  captain, 
mates,  or  crew,  who  are  “yo-hoing”at  hawsers  and  ropes, 
lugging  her  alongside  the  slip  or  planked  wharf — which,  on 
each  side  of  the  city,  run  in  hundreds  out  like  the  teeth  of  a 
comb — (each  two  hundred  yards  long  and  forty  or  fifty  broad). 
On  this  slip  appears,  to  our  further  dismay,  an  immense 
crowd  of  eager  people  ready  to  board  us,  and  divide  the  spoils 
of  luggage ! — just  undergoing  the  ordeal  of  the  Custom-house 
officials — who  I find  not  at  all  “mild” — but  more  minute, 
troublesome,  and  vexatious,  than  at  our  own  Custom-houses — 
they  even  broke  open  some  of  the  small  packages  and  boxes 
which  could  not  be  opened  by  key,  or  by  the  owner  quick 
enough,  and  insisted  on  looking  into  our  writing-desks  and 
portfolios.  My  fellow  “ cal-lated”  that  he  “liked  to  see  all,” 
as  he  tumbled  all  my  things  about— in  the  rain ! Oh,  Captain 
F , why  did  not  you  warn  us  ? Why  vouch  for  .the  ur- 

banities of  Custom-house  sharks?  Well,  they  took  nothing 
— for  there  was  nothing  to  take,  except  one’s  patience ! and  I 
was  going  to  expatiate  on  the  beauties  of  the  tug  and  ferry 
steamers — the  forests  of  masts  and  steamers’  funnels — or  the 
coasting  and  river  sloops  and  schooners  laden  with  all  kinds 
of  notions,  including  hay,  oysters,  pumpkins,  and  staves — on 
the  numbers  of  ships  clearing  out  and  in — on  the  whole  waters 
in  face  of  the  city  being  alive  with  white  sails,  and  steam -boats 
'■ashing  in  all  directions — on  the  low  Jersey  shores  to  the  left 
| is  we  advanced — and  the  gentle  rise  of  the  Long  Island  side  to 
he  right — with  its  suburb  city  of  Brooklyn  of  110,000  citizens 
— of  the  Battery  Point  and  green,  and  its  trees,  which  divides 
fie  East  and  Hudson  river  forests  of  masts  aforesaid — forming 
he  mighty  stir  of  this  New  World ! But  no,  I must  attend 
o more  pressing  concerns,  and  get  on  shore  out  of  this  pelting 
;ain  as  fast  as  I can — and  not  a bit  glad  or  overjoyed  at  having 
;ot  across  the  Atlantic  in  twelve  days  and  a-half — twice  before 
iow  has  it  kept  me  a whole  month — but  nobody  is  ever  grate- 
id  for  anything ! The  rain  and  the  Custom-house  jack-in- 
ffiee  had  quite  upset  my  equanimity ; and  now  we  are  fast — 

• he  gang-board  and  the  deck  invaded  by  the  crowd ; the  con- 
i usion  becomes  unspeakable ; trunks,  packages,  ropes,  ladies 
nd  their  husbands,  children,  nurses,  officers,  porters,  touters, 
marchers,  all  mix  up  in  an  uproar  enough  to  confound  and 
pset  any  common  stoic.  All  this  is  made  still  worse  by  the 
■iends  of  those  on  board,  and  even  unwashed  mob  coming  on 
■ le  deck,  many  out  of  idle  curiosity,  some  to  look  for  friends 


2 


NEW  YOKE — HOTELS. 


expected,  others  for  luggage,  and  many  dispatched  to  tout 
from  their  hotels. 

Happily,  “ time  and  the  hour  run  through  the  hottest  day.” 
Fighting  my  way  over  the  gang-board,  I land,  loaded  with! 
part  of  my  traps,  fearful  of  their  loss,  and  rush  into  one  of  the 
Astor-house  coaches,  waiting  with  others  near,  and  we  drove 
off,  over  a sea  of  black  mud  and  ruts,  through  a crowd  ol 
’busses,  carts,  drays,  and  other  vehicles,  in  number  equal  to 
those  of  our  own  London,  swarming  in  Fleet-street  or  Corn- 
hill,  Several  times  we  were  brought  to  a stand-still  before' 
we  arrived  at  tliis  establishment  of  two  hundred  and  ninety  or 
three  hundred  rooms,  built  of  a bluish  stone,  resembling 
granite ; indeed,  called  here  Quincy  granite.  It  forms  an 
immense  pile,  live  or  six  stories  high,  situated  in  the  Broad- 
way-street,  at  the  south  end  of  the  “ Park,”  an  open  space  of 
about  ten  acres,  planted  with  trees,  where  stands  the 
Town-hall. 

The  presiding  priest  (the  office-clerk)  of  this  crowded  temple,! 
presented  me  on  my  entrance  with  a book  in  which  to  insert 
my  name.  I was  then  ushered  up  several  flights  of  stairs,  and 
through  long  corridors,  to  No.  240,  where  the  windows  are 
simply  oval  apertures  between  the  carved  ornaments  of  the 
cornice  in  front  of  the  house.  From  this  hole,  getting  half 
my  body  through,  I looked  down  on  the  south  end  of  the 
Park  and  Broadway-street.  I saw  interminable  lines  of  omni- 
buses coming  up  and  down.  Their  number,  running  into  all 
the  avenues  above,  seemed  truly  astonishing  ; the  noise,  night 
and  day,  was  incessant ; Piccadilly  has  hardly  a more  incessant 
clatter. 

In  honest  truth,  I cannot  like  these  great  caravanseries. 
The  only  feeling  in  them  is  that  of  discomfort,  inseparable 
from  such  vast  numbers  being  thrown  together.*  The  dining-: 
room  is  very  large  and  fine.  It  contains  two  long  tables,  at 
which  a parcel  of  careless,  sleepy,  Paddy -botheration  waiters 
go  through  the  listless,  never-ending  employment  of  feeding 
all  the  strange  biped  animals  that  present  themselves,  from 
“ morn  till  dusky  eve.”  How  very  tired  they  must  needs  bei 
of  then-  labour,  and  the  repetition  of  the  same  never-ending, 
still-beginning  process  ! Our  philosophical  citizen  feeders  are 
all  Irish  ; indeed,  it  is  very  rare  to  find  white  Americans  thus 
employed.  As  to  the  native-born,  the  difference  of  manners 
here  is  sufficiently  marked.  I already  fancy  I detect  myself 
in  twanging  off  emphatic  words,  by  way  of  clinchers  to  my 
sentences,  or  modulating  my  voice  into  the  invariable  sing- 
song cadence  heard  on  all  sides.  However  the  native  American 

* I am  only  astonished  at  Mr.  Chambers,  in  his  excellent,  sensible,  and 
useful  book,  findingit  comfortable!  or  that  he  had  such  amide  time  to  eat 
his  dinner  at  the  hotels. 


YEW  YOKE. — PEOPLE, 


23 


resembles  an  Englishman,  there  is  a certain  expression,  and 
peculiarity  of  dress  and  carriage,  about  the  “ young  country 
sarpent,”  which  cannot  be  mistaken.  Perhaps,  as  just  observed, 
the  Americans  affect  the  Erench  fashions  most  at  the  present 
moment.  They  appear  “bearded  like  the  pard.”  They  shave 
the  upper  lip  in  general,  and  a little  of  the  cheek  above  the 
jaw-bone,  leaving  a straight  line  right  across  the  face ; or  else 
the  beard  only  garnishes  the  tip  of  the  chin,  surmounted  by 
an  imperial. 

Such  is  the  appearance  of  the  “ human  face,”  not  rendered 
more  “ divine”  by  these  tasteless  arts,  which  presents  itself  to 
the  stranger  newly-landed.  The  prevalent  dress  is  much  like 
our  own,  with  a smack  of  the  last  Parisian  novelty.  The 
hotel  swells  dress  in  the  gayest  colours.  Hooked  in  vain  into 
the  shop-windows  for  a black  cravat : anything  rather  than 
quiet  colours  or  simplicity  of  costume  seems  the  current  taste. 

To  say  anything  absolutely  novel  of  New  York  might  well 
make  a stranger  despair.  I shall  confine  myself  to  a few 
objects  which  strike  those  who  arrive  from  England.  Pecu- 
liarities of  language,  dress,  and  manners  here,  have  been  dwelt 
upon  until  they  have  become  trite  and  even  tedious.  The 
fashions  follow  London  and  Paris.  Every  man  has  Iris  watch 
in  his  waistcoat-pocket,  and  his  guard-chain,  seals,  and  key, 
hooked  to  his  button-hole.  I may  add  to  what  has  been  said, 
that  if  America  copies  Young  France  a little  as  to  the  cut  of 
the  beard,  the  older  and  best-bred  persons  shave  as  we  do,  or 
almost  as  closely.  They  do  not  take  as  much  pains  at  the 
toilet,  perhaps.  Still,  all  are  known  to  be  American  at  a 
glance,  by  a certain  je  ne  seal  quoi — I do  not  refer  to  their 
tone  of  voice,  pliraseology,  twang,  or  emphasis  particularly, 
but  there  is  a total  difference  hi  ideas  and  mode  of  thinking. 

Still  raining,  I walked  up  the  Broadway  as  far  as  a new 
stone-built  church,  a mile  from  the  Park,  but  still  the  Broad- 
way, which  runs  north  for  miles,  a leading  avenue,  crossed  by 
the  numbered  streets  up  to  50th-street  or  loOth-street,  but  as 
yet  in  only  building  lots,  ready  for  the  go-a-head  expansion. 
The  omnibuses  were  so  thick,  at  their  charge  of  six  cents,  or 
threepence,  that  a continued  chain  of  them  was  going  and  re- 
turning from  all  the  avenues  and  northern  body  of  the  town, 
into  the  extreme  suburbs  some  four  miles  off.  There  is  a 
street-railroad  opposite  the  Astor,  and  I observed  two  mon- 
ster-cars npon  it,  each  drawn  by  four  horses.  They  are  a sort 
of  long  saloon  upon  wheels,  and  were  starting  I knew  not 
where,  but  I must  needs  get  in  and  be  conveyed  up  Centre- 
street  to  Cannal-street.  They  skirt  the  street  upon  this  rail 
between  the  footway  and  the  centre.  The  most  remarkable 
“ go-a-head”  things  I observed  besides  were  the  galvanic 
telegraph  wires,  running  up  the  streets  on  high  poles,  over  the 


24 


NEW  YOKE — EARLY  RISERS. 


passengers’  heads,  crossing  and  ro-crossing  it.  In  one  place 
the  pole,  too  slender,  on  which  the  four  wires  are  suspended, 
leans  ov'er  the  street  at  an  awkward  angle.  It  will  some  day 
come  down,  and  entangle  a dozen'omnibuses. 

Generally,  the  shops,  like  their  houses,  are  on  a larger  scale 
than  ours.  Their  extent  is  remarkable.  So  is  the  great  size 
of  the  timbers  and  beams  used  in  their  construction.  It  is 
true  wood  is  in  plenty  here.  Thickness  and  strength  not  being 
economised  as  with  us.  There  is  a sort  of  bold  novelty  in 
everything  the  Americans  do  ; a usefulness  connected  with 
durability — impossible  not  to  admire.  In  their  newest  build- 
ings they  beat  our  houses  out  and  out.  Trinity  Church  is  a 
most  noble  pile,  semi-Gothic ; and  within,  very  like  a cathe- 
dral. It  has  rich  stained-glass  windows,  and  the  whole  speaks 
an  almost  Greek  solidity  of  construction.  The  spire  is  exceed- 
ingly handsome,  as  are  all  the  spires,  remarkably  so.  Several 
of  these  rise  to  an  elevation  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet. 
There  are  more  than  a hundred  and  seventy  places  of  religious 
worship  of  all  denominations  and  sects. 

I walked  into  Trinity  Church,  the  door  being  open,  and  no 
dean  and  chapter  extorting  fees.  I felt  no  small  degree  of  ad- 
miration at  the  simplicity  of  the  interior,  and  its  fine  effect  as 
a whole  ; but  it  struck  me  as  too  sombre  ; indeed,  as  positively 
dark ; but  the  Americans  are  fond  of  this  sort  of  darkness- 
visible — in  their  hotels  and  private  houses  you  can  hardly  see 
to  read  and  write,  or  eat  your  dinner ! keeping  their  outer 
green  shutters  (jalousies)  closed.  To  the  left,  on  entering  the 
churchyard,  which  is  embellished  with  flowering  shrubs  and 
weeping  willows,  my  attention  was  fixed  for  a moment  on  the 
tomb  of  Captain  Lawrence,  who  was  killed  in  the  Chesapeake. 
The  monument  and  inscription  are  both  in  good  taste  ; indeed, 
particularly  so.  There  is  nothing  turgid  nor  overdone ; a fault 
sometimes  noticeable  here.  He  wTas  really  a noble  fellow ! 
Some  few  other  public  buildings  have  fine  facades  of  solid 
granite ; the  most  conspicuous  are  the  Exchange  in  Wall- 
street,  of  stately  effect,  and  the  Tomb’s  prison,  in  Centre-street, 
is  built  entirely  of  granite,  with  great  solidity,  in  the  Egyptian 
style,  the  massive  gloominess  of  which  is  not  inappropriate  to 
a receptacle  for  evil  doers. 

How  much  earlier  a people  our  cousins,  the  Americans,  are 
than  ourselves  ! At  six  in  the  morning,  the  din  of  activity 
wras  already  heard  on  all  sides.  In  truth,  it  seemed  scarcely 
to  have  ceased  all  night.  While  we,  in  London,  are  only 
opening  our  shop  windows  at  eight  and  nine  o’clock,  our 
omnibuses  are  hardly  harnessed,  and  very  little  stir  seen, 
even  the  streets  scanty  of  people  ; the  inhabitants  of  New 
York  are  three  good  hours  before  us.  At  seven  o’clock,  in 
the  great  room  of  the  Irving  and  Astor  Hotels,  we  see  a good 


BAES  AND  BAEBEB’S  SHOPS. 


25 


many  people  at  breakfast.  This  is  continued  until  eleven  or 
twelve,  if  you  clioose  to  breakfast  so  late.  But  as  the  whole  world 
here,  beau  inoude  and  all,  are  mercantile,  all  meals  are  earlier. 
At  half-past  three  o’clock,  the  general  dinner,  at  six  tea,  and 
from  nine  till  eleven  those  take  supper  who  may  be  inclined 
to  do  so.  A variety  of  good  things  are  to  be  had,  but  there 
is  nothing  allowed  to  drink,  except  water,  without  extra  pay- 
ment, at  exorbitant  prices.  Thus,  but  for  the  busy  bar,  one 
would  fancy  all  the  polite  world  teetotalers  ; on  these  long 
tables,  of  hundreds  in  rows,  nothing  is  seen  but  water  and 
ice;  or,  at  rare  intervals,  a dashing  individual  ventures  on 
vine.  Sherry,  port,  madeira,  or  champagne,  all  alike  at  eight 
shillings  and  ten  shillings  the  bottle  (two  and  two-and-a-half 
dollars) ! Brandy,  rum,  and  all  liquors,  equally  extravagant ; 
even  the  common  blew  England  rum  and  whiskey.  Beer 
in  the  same  way ; our  porter  and  ale  at  two  shillings  the 
bottle.  Hotel  people  are  thus  teetotalers  per  force;  the 
ladies,  if  any,  all  together  at  one  end  of  the  table,  rarely  touch 
' anything  but  water. 

So  that  the  bare  living,  compared  with  our  hotels,  is  not  at 
all  more  moderate,  even  on  water  only.  My  week’s  bill  came 
to  eighteen  dollars,  or  £3  12s.,  without  a single  comfort. 
But  the  bachelor  mob  of  American  hotels  care  nothing  about 
comfort  of  any  sort.  The  hall  and  bar  always  filled  by 
spitters,  chewers,  and  smokers.  There  is  a small  sitting-room 
here  for  the  use  of  150  men  ! it  might  hold  thirty  standing ; 
a smaller  room,  and  a small  round  table,  small  inkstand,  and 
no  pens  or  paper,  is  for  writing  in — if  you  can.  Another 
sort  of  office  has  the  dozens  of  United  States  papers  fast  to 
desks,  which  rim  round,  to  be  read  standing  ; the  one  direc- 
tory is  chained  to  the  clerk’s  office ; you  are  poked  four 
in  one  bed-room— quadruple  bedded — with  men  you  know 
nothing  of,  and  who  change,  it  may  be,  in  various  relays 
during  your  , pleasant  sejour ; a writing  on  the  door  warns 
you  to  be  wary,  and  lock  your  door ! which  is  simply  impos- 
sible. I had  not  the  pleasure  of  the  most  remote  acquaint- 
.ance  with  the  gents  who  snored  round  me  at  night;  all 
fashionable,  if  I could  judge  by  their  immense  brass-bound, 
nail-studded  trunks.  Still,  the  warning  was  not  pleasant. 

The  fast  young  Americans  at  these  hotels,  all  over  the 
Union,  glory  in  all  sorts  of  silly  show  and  expense,  and  much 
resemble  our  gents,  only  that  they  have  more  unaffected 
assurance,  and  take  the  lead  in  everything — theatres,  concerts, 
balls,  and  parties.  The  old  folks  are  voted  slow  when  they 
happen  to  have  a “ governor”  somewhere. 

( Miss  Catherine  Hayes  is  here,  and,  the  papers  say,  ex- 
changes visits  with  Mrs.  and  Miss  Fillmore  at  the  Irving- 
' bouse.  She  gives  concerts  at  Tripler’s  Hall,  at  one  and  two 


26 


FASHION  OF  FEEDING. 


dollars  tlie  seat ; is  obstreperously  applauded,  and  lias  bushels 
of  bouquets  (made  up  in  French  fashion,  and  sold  in  Broad- 
way) thrown  at  her  every  evening  by  all  the  most  enthusiastic 
gents.  This  fashion  has  almost  reached  its  culminating  point 
of  absurdity. 

I am  sick  of  this  great  granite  Astor,  with  its  columns,  and 
interminable  stairs  and  corridors.  The  vestibule,  always 
lumbered  by  trunks  going  and  coming,  and  then’  owners 
spitting  in  all  directions— a row  of  them  sit  and  enfilade  the 
street,  with  smoking  skirmishers  drawn  up,  three  deep, 
on  the  steps  of  the  doors,  staring  at  the  Broadway  belles, 
who  run  the  gauntlet  of  their  cigar  and  eye  fire  with  a pleased 
confidence. 

The  girls  look,  to  my  English  eyes,  as  thin  as  thread 
papers,  but  I must  wait  and  see  more  of  them.  There  are  an 
immense  number  of  French  and  Germans  mixed  up  with 
the  pure  grit  Americans.  The  variety  is  increased  by  the 
niggers  and  yellow  ones  of  all  shades ; but  I must  put  on  my 
American  spectacles,  and  not  be  too  hasty  in  conclusions. 

This  granite  hotel  is  one  of  the  great  guns  of  New  York. 
It  is  carried  on  by  a company,  like  a rail-road,  in  shares,  as 
most  of  these  giant  feeding  places  are  in  the  United  States ; 
a clerk  or  two  presides  in  an  entrance-office,  and  a head  man 
over  the  waiters,  who  marshals  them,  like  a company  of 
soldiers,  when  all  the  bipeds  are  jammed  together  expectant 
at  table. 

A bell  tinkles — in  they  march,  two  and  two,  bearing  covered 
dishes  ; another  tinkle  of  bell — halt — each  sets  down  his  dish 
and  cover,  at  very  remote  distances,  of  vegetables  or  some- 
thing nobody  is  likely  to  touch,  hors  d’ oeuvres  ; another  tinkle 
— uncover.  Each  waiter  divides  his  squad  of  hungry  cattle 
off  into  the  sixes  or  eights  he  has  to  feed.  Those  who  fee 
him  get  first  asked,  one  after  another,  what  they’ll  have  P for 
nothing  eatable  is  in  sight.  The  fish,  flesh,  and  fowl,  is  cut 
up  and  served  out  in  another  room,  or  at  the  extreme  end  of 
these  great  darkness-visible  halls.  You  wait,  in  vain  you 
turn  your  head,  or  try  to  catch  a stray  imp  to  get  you  some- 
thing— anything.  No ; I guess  not ; you’re  in  a fix.  At  last, 
when  some  of  the  first-served  have  nearly  dined — they  only 
take  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes — your  particular  feeder  comes 
in  a great  hurry  and  asks  you,  insinuatingly,  what  you’d  like? 
The  bill  of  fare  has  lots  of  good  things ; but,  one  after 
another,  he  tells  you,  after  another  absence,  “there’s  none 
left !”  Well,  in  despair,  you  cram  anything  you  can  get  down; 
what  enjoyment ! I forgot,  that  first  they  bring  round  a vile 
soup  of  some  kind — mere  hot  water. 

You  are  slow  at  feeding,  still,  don’t  trifle;  you  see  the 
tarts  and  puddings  vanishing ; they  are  put  on  now,  but  the 


C0JIF0KT  OF  THE  HOTELS. 


27 


ruck  are  backing  out.  The  dessert  bas  been  on  from  the  first, 
to  make  a show  along  the  middle  of  the  tables — the  most 
common  miserable  fruit  to  be  found  in  the  market — you  may 
munch  an  apple ; no,  the  whole  feed  has  ended ; all  cleared 
out.  You  are  the  last  man,  and  are,  evidently,  a nuisance 
to  the  waiters,  so,  be  off.  This  they  call  dining. 

But,  at  these  places,  to  talk  of  comfort  of  any  kind  is 
laughable ; it  is  no  more  known,  or  cared  for,  than  in  Paris. 
They  affect,  now-a-days,  to  follow  this  French  fashion,  of 
having  nothing  to  help  yourself  from  at  their  tables  d'hote, 
till  cold,  and  cut  up,  and  brought  you  to  eat,  whether  you 
like  it  or  not.  But  even  this  is  more  tolerable  in  France  for 
twenty  or  thirty  people  at  table,  than  for  the  two  hundreds  at 
the  American  hotels.  I give  up  dining,  but  I am  not  even 
fed ; it  is  worse  than  poor  Sanclio  in  the  island  of  Barataria. 
Leisure,  converse,  wine  at  dessert — pooh ! 

Twenty  years  ago,  all  the  tavern  and  hotel-tables  in  the 
States  were  twenty  times  more  liberal,  served  in  the  good  old 
English  way.  Brandy  was  even  put  on  the  table  to  help 
yourself,  till  the  dessert  came  on  ; and  the  servants  were  not 
so  evidently  in  a hurry  to  get  rid  of  you.  Delicacies  were 
not  rare  nor  stinted  as  now;  lobsters,  terrapins,  peaches, 
oysters,  plums,  melons,  &e.,  were  in  profusion,  now  you 
rarely  see  them.  The  tables  affect  show  and  finely,  and  are 
more  mean ; or,  perhaps,  the  shareholders  would  divide  a less 
dividend.  From  whatever  cause,  they  have  sadly  fallen  off, 
in  proportion  as  they  have  gone  on  building  them  great  hotels 
bigger  and  bigger. 

This,  in  a rich,  cheap  country.  The  markets  are  admirable ; 
every  conceivable  good  thing  at  extremely  low  prices,  and  in 
astonishing  profusion.  I was  quite  lost  in  the  heaps  and 
loads  of  things  at  the  great  markets — Washington,  Fulton, 
Broad-street,  and  others  I forget  the  names  of — Covent- 
garden,  or  Leadenhall,  are  nothing  to  them  in  extent  or  the 
luxuriance,  not  that  they  can  be  compared  to  them,  but  we 
have  neither  so  many  nor  such  a variety,  even  in  London, 
and  everything  as  dear  again — I can  only  except  the  rarest 
fruit  and  flowers  with  us,  but  always  at  extravagant  prices.  I 
But  throughout  America,  their  storekeepers,  artists,  and 
others,  board  by  the  year  at  these  hotels,  at  half,  or  less,  than 
is  charged  to  travellers  ; thence  it  is  that  the  tables  are  bad, 
to  suit  their  smaller  payments,  as  they  form  the  great  body 
always  seated  at  them. 

The  breakfasts  are  a shade  better,  always  excepting  the  tea 
and  coffee,  made  in  great  tin  cans,  weak  as  water,  and  as  to 
taste,  very  much  alike  indeed  ; a decent  cup  of  tea  or  coffee 
is  not  to  be  had,  unless  in  private  apartments  up-stairs. 

I leave  the  table  in  disgust,  and  up  interminable  flights  of 


28 


OYSTEE  CELLAES. 


stairs  and  dark  corridors  regain  my  corner  of  No.  240  chamber. 
What  a treadmill ! I see  leather  hoses  are  kept  coiled  up 
ready  along  the  corridor  in  case  of  lire.  By  crawling  out  at 
my  window,  or  hole  in  the  cornice,  under  the  roof,  about 
four  feet  deep,  I can  manage  in  this  horizontal  position  to  see 
what’s  going  on  in  the  Broadway  below,  in  the  “Park,”  and  i' 
Bowery-street  beyond.  I see  various  volunteer  corps,  and 
hose  and  engine  corps,  with  colours  flying,  and  bands  at  their 
head  are  marching  about  through  the  streets.  These  brigades 
of  firemen  and  volunteers  are  some  of  them  on  a visit  from 
the  J erseys  or  Philadelphia  ; travelling  by  rail  in  companies 
to  show  themselves  in  their  smart  uniforms ; they  are  received 
and  feted  by  the  New  York  companies.  Tamaney  Hall  is  a 
favjourite  resort  after  their  marchings  about  all  day.  On 
grand  occasions  these  young  firemen  (always  the  dare-devil 
set  in  each  city)  gather  bouquets  and  wreaths,  as  they  march 
along,  from  the  hands  of  their  fair  friends  ! and  parade  them 
from  one  city  to  auother ; for  they  don’t  mind  either  time 
or  expense,  and  “don’t  go  home  till  morning;”  the  whole 
day  passed  in  treating  each  other  at  certain  stands  or  favourite 
hotel  bars. 

There  is  no  such  thing  as  a hair-dresser’s  shop — all  are 
“ Barbers’  shops,”  which  are  always  full  of  beaux,  getting- 
some  part  of  their  cheeks  shaved ; and  the  charges  are  very 
high  for  this  luxury  of  being  stuck  in  the  barber’s  chair. 
Every  hotel  has  its  barber’s  shop  attached  to  it  near  the  bar ; 
and  a bowling-saloon  in  the  basement  too.  There  are,  I find, 
some  few  restaurats,  as  they  call  them ; but  the  favourite 
places  for  dining  or  supping  are  the  oyster-cellars ; some  of 
them  fitted  out  very  fine  and  expensively ; each  table  in  a 
recess  with  curtains  in  front  looped  up  like  window  curtains. 
They  charged  high  for  some  oyster-soup  I called  for — poor 
stuff,  very — and  yet  the  profusion  of  oysters  caught  down 
the  bay,  and  along  Staten  Island,  as  far  as  Perth  Amboy,  in 
the  Jerseys,  is  quite  marvellous,  quite  “a  caution,”  as  they 
have  it.  Well,  I have  heard  of  God  sending  us  good  things,  and 
the  devil  cooks  ; it  never  was  more  true  of  any  country  surely 
than  America,  from  Niagara  to  New  Orleans  ! Or  is  it  only 
a matter  of  taste  ? but,  alas,  in  a great  bowl  of  oyster-water, 

I only  caught  four  oysters,  after  much  fishing.  I saw  it  was 
expected  I’d  make  a call  at  the  bar  for  a dram  as  I made 
my  exit : I am  sure  they  saw  I was  an  Old  Country  sarpent ! 
The  gas  in  these  close  cellars  is  horrid ; and  gas  is  every- 
where. 

I have  spoken  of  the  crowds  of  vehicles  in  Broadway,  and 
the  crowds  of  people,  quite  equal  to  ours  in  London,  in  Picca- 
dilly, or  the  Strand ; all  the  carriages  totally  different  from 
ours ; the  ’busses  oddlooking  things,  but  more  roomy  and  • 
comfortable  than  ours,  passengers  not  so  packed ; the 


TEEATMENT  OF  HOESES. 


29 


liorses  not  so  cruelly  overworked  (to  tlie  disgrace  of  our 
licensers !)  and  no  outsiders.  One  of  tlie  most  pleasing 
tilings  in  the  streets  is  to  see  tlie  little  use  made  of  tlie  whip, 
and  the  spirit  and  sagacity  of  the  horses,  as  they  are  cared  for, 
spoken  kindly  to,  and  not  at  all  overworked  in  their  waggons, 
drays,  hack-carriages — ’tis  alike  remarkable.  Their  ’busses 
are  painted  in  flaring  colours,  on  white  and  yellow  grounds, 
with  landscapes  and  figures  ; some  very  well  done — the  bad 
taste  is  nothing  ; one  forgets  it  in  the  comfort  inside.  The 
contrivance  to  have  no  conductors,  and  each  to  pay  through 
the  hole  in  the  roof,  is  “ first-rate  !” 

Out  of  the  lofty  window  of  the  western  corridor  I can  see 
the  silvery  Hudson  running  north,  till  lost  at  the  Palisades, 
covered  by  sliipping ; steamers,  sloops,  schooners,  coming 
down  or  going  up  with  the  tide  to  the  upper  part  of  this  vast 
State,  of  which  it  is  the  great  artery.  Beyond  the  sparkling 
waters  lies  Jersey  City,  and  Hoboken,  two  miles  above  it  on 
the  J ersey  shore  ; ferry-boats  cross  to  both  towns  every  few 
' minutes.  The  latter  place,  the  only  one  the  Hew  Yorkers 
have  for  anything  like  a romantic  or  rural  walk  of  a Sunday. 
The  state  of  Jersey,  by  the  way,  has  no  large  city,  is  very 

{>oor  and  primitive  to  this  day,  and  seems  to  exist  only  as  a 
evel  flat,  convenient  for  the  great  New  Yorkers  and  Phila- 
delphians to  whirl  across  on  the  two  rival  railroads! — a quiet, 
religious  state ; the  worn-out  land  of  the  lower  part  raises 
rye,  Indian  corn,  pumpkins,  and  lumber,  and  is  famous  for 
its  camp-meetings.  The  Jersey  wagons  are  excellent;  so 
are  their  cows  and  dairies ; but  certain  it  is,  the  State  (college 
at  Princetown  and  all)  is  swamped  between  these  two  awful 
go-ahead  neighbours,  and  is  of  “ no  account,  I guess !'” 

In  all  American  cities,  as  here,  one  meets  with  the  same 
every-day  character  of  town  things,  arrangements,  and  ways, 
as  among  ourselves,  only  with  a go-a-head  contrivance  or  mo- 
dification, sometimes  better,  sometimes  worse  than  our  own. 
But  the  one  thing  here,  and  at  all  their  sea-board  cities,  which 
claims  our  unqualified  admiration,  are  their  ships  and  floating 
vessels  of  every  possible  variety — all  equally  beautiful  and 
perfect  in  their  way.  Then’  build,  their  masts,  their  sails, 
their  speed,  their  everything. 

The  waters  are  covered  by  their  small  ferry  steamers, 
running  in  all  directions — over  to  Jersey  on  one  side,  or  over 
to  Long  Island  on  the  other — while  the  larger  ones  up  the 
Hudson,  or  East  Hiver,  dash  through  the  water  like  floating 
palaces,  and  at  a speed  beyond  all  others  in  the  world ; while 
to  and  from  the  Atlantic,  the  great  ocean  steamers,  along  their 
own  shores  or  to  Europe,  join  all  the  best  qualities  of  sea- 
going ships  to  increased  size  and  beauty  of  form ; but  it  is 
• then.'  numbers  which  are  still  more . astonishing.  The  waters 


BO 


CROTON  WATERWORKS. 


and  the  wharves  are  alive  with  them ; and  the  stir,  the  crowds, 
the  cargoes,  and  loads,  and  stacks  of  merchandise  for  ever 
piled  on  the  slips,  loading  and  unloading  by  thousands  of  carts 
and  drays,  which  are  darting  in  every  direction,  which  gives 
one  so  overwhelming  an  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  the  commerce 
and  riches  of  the  States — even  our  city,  and  our  wharves,  and 
our  docks,  are  sleepy  and  idle  in  the  comparison.  This 
swarming  scene  borders  the  city,  on  both  sides,  for  two  miles; 
on  the  East  River  side  lie  all  the  fine  sailing  ships  by  hun- 
dreds ; on  the  Hudson  side  the  steamers  most ; but  both  sides 
are  crammed  and  jammed  in  by  both  sorts  at  every  slip,  so 
full,  that  the  schooners,  sloops,  smacks,  fishing-boats,  &c.,  can 
often  hardly  find  room  to  poke  their  noses  in.  The  slips  on 
both  sides,  towards  the  Battery,  are  reserved  for  passage 
steamers,  and  ferry  ditto,  canal  boats,  and  coasting  craft.  It 
is  curious  to  see  the  tug-steamers,  start  up  the  Hudson  with 
a flock  of  canal-boats  fast  to  her,  like  a hen  and  chickens,  for 
Albany,  where  they  take  the  Erie  canal. 

Yes,  the  United  States  afloat  is  certainly  a-head  of  all  the 
world — would  that  I could  say,  except  England.  In  their 
floating  things  one  sees  every  species  of  capacity  and  excel- 
lence; nor  is  Hew  York  alone  in  this — it  applies  to  all  her 
sea-board  cities,  nay,  to  every  village  along  her  coast  of  two 
thousand  miles,  and  her  rivers  of  ten  thousand  miles  ! But  of 
this  immensity  hereafter. 

Another  great  object  of  pride  to  the  Hew  Yorkers  is  their 
Croton  Waterworks — a stupendous  undertaking  ! — brought 
into  the  city  from  a distance  of  forty  miles  north,  over  valleys 
and  rivers,  and  giving  a supply  far  beyond  their  present  wants 
of  the  purest  spring  water,  and  commanding  a level  higher 
than  their  most  lofty  buildings  ; we  have  nothing  as  a single 
work  to  compare  to  it,  either  in  magnitude  or  in  the  complete- 
ness of  its  excellence — one  can  but  envy,  and  admire. 

How  well  have  our  “cousins”  treated  this  much  vexed 
water  subject,  and  so  much  better  and  wiser  they  act  than  we 
do.  Hew  York  has  now  eight  hundred  thousand  inhabitants, 
and  yet  the  supply  is  equal  to  four  or  five  times  the  demand. 
I will  linger  a moment  on  this  noble  public  undertaking,  which 
cost  twelve  millions  of  dollars.  It  is  called  the  Croton  Water- 
works, as  it  commences  at  the  river  of  that  name,  with  an 
aqueduct  from  the  reservoir  in  West  Chester  county,  five 
miles  from  the  Hudson  river.  The  bank  of  the  reservoir  dam 
is  seventy  feet  wide  at  the  bottom,  seven  at  the  top,  and  forty 
high,  built  solidly  of  stone  and  cement.  This  dam  collects  a 
piece  of  water  five  miles  long,  covering  four  hundred  acres, 
and  calculated  to  contain  five  hundred  millions  of  gallons  of 
very  pure  water.  The  aqueduct  is  continued  by  tunnelling 
through  rocks,  and  carrying  it  on  by  embankments  over 


WATEK  TO  THE  CHUECH  STEEPLES. 


31 


Talleys,  to  the  Harlem  river,  seven  miles  and  a-half  from  Hew 
’ York,  and  thirty-three  miles  from  tlie  grand  reservoir  above 

■ mentioned.  The  Harlem  river  is  crossed  by  a noble  aqueduct- 
: bridge  of  stone,  larger  than  either  of  the  London  bridges,  or 

fourteen  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  having  fifteen  arches  of  eighty 
: and  fifty  feet  span,  and  a hundred  and  fourteen  feet  above 

■ high-water  mark.  Before  the  bridge  was  erected  the  water 
was  conducted  across  the  river  in  a curved  iron  pipe,  concave 

• upwards.  The  aqueduct  is  built  of  stone,  brick,  and  cement, 

• arched  over  and  under,  eight  feet  five  inches  high,  six  feet 
nine  at  the  bottom,  and  seven  feet  five  inches  at  the  top.  It 

i has  a descent  of  thirteen  inches  and  a-half  per  mile.  The 
; home  reservoir  at  Hew  York  is  just  thirty-eight  miles  from 
the  grand  receiver,  and  covers  thirty-five  acres.  It  will  hold 
: a hundred  and  fifty  millions  of  gallons.  From  hence  it  is  con- 
. veyed  to  a third  or  distributing  reservoL,  covering  four  acres, 

: by  means  of  iron  pipes.  This  holds  twenty  millions  of  gallons, 
is  constructed  of  stone  and  cement,  and  is  forty -three  feet 
; high.  This  distribution  is  by  iron  pipes  laid  too  deep  in  the 
: ground  to  be  affected  by  frosts  ; when  the  plugs  are  drawn  the 

• water  shoots  out  with  prodigious  force.  This  I observed  from 
: a crack  or  joint  in  an  iron  pipe  on  one  of  the  slips  or  broad 

jetties,  which  branch  straight  out  on  both  sides  of  the  city, 

: two  hundred  yards  into  the  water,  and  are  forty  feet  wide,  at 
both  sides  of  which  tiers  of  ships  are  lashed,  as  I have  said. 

How  many  things  I see  to  muse  over  and  admire  as  I walk 
the  streets ; their  breed  of  mules  is  very  fine,  and  much  prized ; 
so,  too,  their  horses,  all  thrive  and  assume  their  best  shapes 
and  good  condition  under  the  considerate  and  gentle  treat- 
ment, so  new  to  any  man  coming  from  that  purgatory  to  our 
poor  dumb  brutes  of  every  species — London  ; where  our  poor 

• horses  are  brutally  tormented  in  our  omnibuses  and  killed,  and 
our  breed  of  asses  dwindled  disgracefully  under  the  never- 

i ceasing  lash  and  goad  of  our  lower  orders.  Even  our  cab- 
: horses  and  government  post-office  hacks  are  a disgrace  to  us 
—to  humanity.  The  efforts  of  our  Humane  Society  do  very 
little  to  check  the  universal  brutality  of  our  people.  Here, 
on  the  contrary,  where  there  is  no  legal  check,  there  seems  a 
. universal  good  feeling  to  feed  well,  and  work  their  cattle  mo- 
lerately ; and  they  are  repaid  by  the  increased  activity  and 
locility  of  the  poor  beasts  ; some  of  this  strange  paradox  is 
unravelled  by  the  fact  that  the  great  body  of  the  drivers  here 
ire  the  owners  of  their  cattle.  Another  pleasing  thing  is  the 
i ?ood  regulations  here,  which  prevent  oxen  or  sheep  being 
Iriven  through  the  streets,  and  goaded  into  a fever,  poor 
■hings,  as  with  us,  before  they  reach  our  infamous  cellars  and 
laughter-houses. 

I lounge  about  the  slips  at  the  water-side  sometimes,  and 


32 


GOOD  THINGS  WASTED. 


observe  the  riches  floating  about  the  wharves,  in  the  shape  of 
large  pine-chips,  logs,  pieces  of  wood,  empty  barrels,  none  so 
poor  as  to  fish  for  them.  The  man  who  sweeps  the  leaves  up 
in  the  Battery-green,  now  fast  falling,  throws  his  heaps  into 
the  water,  as  not  worth  keeping  for  manure.  Yet  New  York 
is  not  without  its'poor ; and  its  scavengers,  poorly-dressed  and 
in  rags,  from  their  own  fault — dram- drinking,  perhaps,  yet 
they  fly  at  higher  game — are  never  hungry.  There  is  a tone 
of  saucy  carelessness  about  them,  a breadth  in  their  ways  and 
means,  which  sets  one  to  thinking  on  the  overflowing  of  the 
supply  of  creature  comforts  in  this  new  land. 

Two  hundred  years  ago  these  shores  yielded  comparatively 
nothing.  What  signified  all  the  Bed  Indians  could  produce 
from  the  land  or  sea,  their  precarious  chase  in  their  dense 
forests — a few  fish — a scanty  supply  either  from  the  sea  or 
river. 

Behold  the  astounding  change  by  the  advent  of  the  English 
race  ; the  riches  worked  out  of,  till  then  grand,  savage,  sterile 
woods  and  wilds  ; the  awful  ocean  and  solemn  silent  rivers, 
sweeping  onward  and  unknown,  sterile  to  the  seas.  All  this, 
be  It,  too,  remembered,  in  its  enchantment,  mainly  brought 
about  by  a wise  freedom  of  action,  inspiriting  each  individual 
of  a great  community ; unshackled  by  the  childish 
laws,  abuses,  and  ignorances  of  feudal  Europe, 
with  all  our  increased  knowledge,  and  greater  freedom  from 
old  absurdities,  we  do  not  march  on  with  the  intelligent  steps 
of  our  cousins  here ; we  are  behind-hand  in  a hundred  essential 
things.  We  have  a better  taste,  a higher  luxury,  for  the  few ; 
a more  sensitive  and  refined  feeling,  a higher  breeding;  but 
they  beat  us  far  in  broad,  grand  essentials  ; we  are  hide-bound 
still,  or  tied,  and  chained,  and  thwarted,  and  disgusted  by 
childish  laws,  monopolies,  and  abuses ; we  all  know  it,  and  i 
feel  it,  in  and  out  of  Parliament,  but  nobody  mends  anything, 
or  so  slowly  ’tis  imperceptible. 

But  I must  keep  my  senses  wide  awake,  and  attend  to 
things  as  they  are ; from  the  Broadway,  which  may  be  said  to 
divide  New  York  in  half,  whether  you  walk  along  the  streets  I 
eastward,  to  the  wharves,  or  slips,  on  the  East  river — which  ] 
is  the  salt  water  strait  formed  for  a hundred  and  twenty  | 
miles  by  Long  Island — or  where  I stand,  on  these  magnificent  I 
slips  of  the  Hudson,  or  west  side,  including  the  strands  or  J 
quays,  the  whole  town  is  most  abominably  neglected  and  ill-  ] 
paved ; one  must  pick  one’s  way  over  mud  and  holes,  and  i 
patches  of  loose  stones,  dug  up  by  the  hundreds  of  one-home 
cars  and  carts,  which  swarm  along  the  quays  and  slips,  tear- 
ing in  all  directions  in  the  one  incessant  work  o f loading  and 
unloading;  once  on  these  noble  slips,  with  the  ranges  oil 
steamers  and  ships  lying  in  tiers,  and  everything  is  admirable.:) 


prejudices, 
Even  now, 


BEAUTY  AND  SIZE  OF  STEAMBOATS. 


33 


The  north,  or  Hudson  river  steamers  lie  above  the  sea-going 
ones.  They  are  immense  mansions  afloat ; their  exquisite 
build,  their  vast  size  and  capacity,  their  internal  fittings  and 
arrangements  are  quite  inconceivable  to  a European ; but 
what  one  equally  admires,  are  the  bold  and  scientific  con- 
trivances to  strengthen  these  enormous  fabrics.  Here  lies  the 
Isaac  Newton,  her  cabins  fitted  regardless  of  expense,  the 
gilding  most  profuse  and  extravagant — of  her  more  anon  ; but 
near  her  lies  the  New  World,  a still  larger  boat,  the  very  last 
turned  out  from  their  prolific  builders’  yards  ; — she  is  366  feet 
long,  and  wide  in  proportion ; for  it  is  a mistake  to  make 
steam-boats  so  narrow  as  we  persist  in  building  them ; ■ their 
swiftness  and  safety  lies  in  their  less  draught  of  water,  and 
greater  buoyancy. 

They  were  washing  her  decks  with  a hose  led  to  one  of  the 
numerous  pipes  (of  the  Crotou  Waterworks)  along  the  qua)rs 
as  well  as  the  streets,  the  water  rushing  with  the  force  of  a 
steam-pipe ; at  any  rate,  giving  one  the  idea  of  bursting  its 
■ solid  leather  hose  every  instant ; out  of  each  joint  of  which  it 
I spirted  showers  in  the  ah.  I could  not  go  on  board,  as  I am 
not  partial  to  wet  feet ; but  her  great  saloons — 200  feet — are 
| said  to  be  as  magnificent  as  the  Newton’s.  These  two  are 
, . but  at  the  head  of  scores  of  such  floating  castles  which  run  to 
Albany,  and  on  the  East  river  to  Providence  and  the  north 
1 coast,  starting  morning  and  evening,  full  of  passengers,  and 
light  deck  cargo  forward.  Their  swiftness  is  extraordinary, 
far  beyond  the  sea  steamers,  ranging,  I believe,  up  to  eighteen 
or  twenty  miles  the  hour.  The  jet,  which  I have  watched 
from  the  impetus  of  the  cutwater  at  the  bows,  forming  a most 
beautiful  fountain-like  cascade,  as  it  is  sent  flying  on  either 
side.  I will  quit  them  for  the  moment,  to  step  on  board  one 
of  the  numerous  fast  ferry-boats,  equally  admirable  for  their 
purpose,  which  fly  across  the  Hudson  to  the  J ersey  side,  with 
horses,  carriages,  and  passengers,  and  all  sorts  of  loads,  every 
fifteen  minutes ; the  river  here  is  about  three  miles  across. 
To  Hoboken,  nearly  opposite  the  centre  of  New  York,  a rural 
village,  forty  or  fifty  years  ago  the  chief  ferry,  since  transferred 

• to  Jersey  city,  two  miles  lower,  a newer  and  larger  town,  but 
still  not  so  much  like  a city ; — but  it  is  “ growing  like  Indian 
corn,”  being  the  terminus  of  one  of  the  Jersey  railways  to 
Philadelphia. 

Hoboken,  as  I have  said,  is  the  only  comeatable  spot  for  a 
rural  stroll  out  of  New  York,  such  has  been  the  rage  for 
cutting  up  the  whole  of  their  flat  peninsula,  to  the  Harlem  river 
in  avenues  and  crossing  streets,  up  to  No.  150 ; though  indeed, 
as  yet,  they  have  only  built  houses  up  to  38th  street,  where 

• the  muddy  roads, end  in  lots,  and  the  embryo  streets  in  ruts 
knee  deep ; but  no  reserve  park  or  green  ■,  a few  squares  here 

D 


34 


HOBOKEN  AND  ITS  WOOD. 


and  there,  indeed ; but  it  is  lamentable,  not  a garden,  not  a 
spot  left  in  reserve,  it  is  to  be  all  covered  with  bard  brick  ; 
may  the  owners  change  then’  minds  while  yet  not  too  late ! 
Well,  we  cross  in  twelve  minutes,  we  land  at  a primitive 
jetty ; nothing  looks  neat,  or  taken  care  of : but  there  is  a 
range  of  fine  houses  (watering-place  loqking)  facing  the 
water  ; passing  a pretty  temple-like  office,  the  footway  leads 
along  planks  laid  down  along  the  whole  front — the  smaller 
houses  of  the  town  behind — the  road  leading  along  the  water- 
side to  a rising  ground  and  charming  wood  in  the  north 
suburbs.  They  were  cutting  away  this  pretty  hill  in  the  line  < 
of  the  houses  ; what  a rage  the  Americans  have  for  levelling 
— quite  unnecessary  here — and  spoiling  all ; but  the  stone  got 
out  is  of  use,  being  a hard  freestone,  much  like  granite,  on  the 
surface  and  below  all  in  boulders,  rolled  round  and  smooth  by  ■ 
the  ocean  countless  ages  past. 

Turning  along  a path  towards  the  waterside  I entered  this 
charming  wood ; it  has  two  walks  along  its  length,  the  lower 
one  is  its  road  close  to  the  waves ; this  I followed,  musing  as  • 
far  as  a flag-staff  and  kind  of  coffee-house,  where  strollers, 
doubtless,  get  refreshment — sherry-cobblers  and  mint-juleps 
— and  sit  and  admire  the  noble  river  upwards  to  the  Palisades, 
and  down  to  Staten  Island,  covered  night  and  day  by  countless 
vessels — a perpetual  motion. 

The  setting  sun  had  gilded  all  the  western  face  of  New 
York,  then  the  darkening  twilight  showed  the  twinkling 
lights  of  the  houses  in  a row,  while  others,  moving,  showed  S 
departing  steamers  up  or  down ; the  solemn  stillness  of  the 
wood  round  me,  where  I found  myself  quite  alone,  gave  me 
full  scope  for  thinking — indeed  the  vastness  and  beauty  of 
the  river,  and  of  the  spot — for  admiration ; but  I began  to 
feel  I was  a little  too  much  and  too  far  alone  in  this  river-side 
wood;  I might  meet  with  an  ugly  customer,  in  the  shape  of 
a Kowdie  or  a Patlander  out  of  work — though  robbery,  with 
violence,  is  rarely  ever  heard  of — so  I turned  and  quickened 
my  pace  back  by  the  lower  road,  where  I observed  a fine 
large  steamer  building.  The  skirts  of  the  villages  has  its 
cottages,  and  villas,  and  gardens,  though  neglected.  Otto  ' 
Cottage  faced  Hoboken  Cottage,  equally  pretty  and  tasty ; ■ 
but  even  here  no  gardener ; nobody  keeps  up  that  exquisite 
neatness  about  any  place  so  indispensable  with  us  ; as  to  a 
lawn,  or  close-shorn  grass  plots,  there  is  no  such  thing.;  1 
flowers  very  few  indeed,  but  it  is  now  autumn,  still  I see  ji 
none  even  of  the  season ; nobody  cares,  or  thinks  of  them,  and  ;! 
yet  the  rich  live  here ; this  is  a favourite  spot,  not  of  staid  | 
Jersey  folks  or  farmers,  but  tonish  New-Yorkers,  bankers,  :S 
merchants ; all  the  flowers  are  in  the  Broadway,  made  up 


BBOOKLYN,  LONG  ISLAND.  35 

into  precise  bouquets,  French  fashion,  to  be  flung  at  every 
new  singer  and  lioness  who  lands  at  the  Empire  City ! 

The  sweet  spot  I had  left  behind  me,  this  precious  water- 
side wood,  juts  out  into  the  stream  a little,  giving  it  a range 
of  view  up  and  down  the  river;  they  call  it,  I hear,  the 
Elysian  Fields  ; well,  the  fine  name  doesn’t  hint  it  much,  at 
any  rate. 

Another  day  I range  down  Pearl-street — the  pavement 
lumbered  with  bales,  boxes,  casks,  and  all  sorts  of  things,  put 
out  at  the  store  doors  for  want  of  room,  or  loading  and  un- 
; loading — till  I get  to  the  East  Fiver  slips : or  going  down 
Broadway,  and  crossing  the  Battery-grove  and  green,  I get 
into  one  of  the  many  ferry-steamers  to  Brooklyn  City  on 
Long  Island ; the  distance  across  to  this  seeming  suburb  of 
blew  York  may  be  a mile,  at  this  the  narrowest  part.  The 
, fare  to  the  Jerseys  is  six  cents,  I think,  here  it  is  two  cents  ; 

indeed,  some  boats  run  at  one  cent  (a  halfpennj''),  and  the 
, Long  Island  railroad  ones  take  you  across  gratis,  the  ter- 
minus passing  under  a long  tunnel  under  the  town,  coming 
out  near  the  wharf. 

This  Long  Island  town  may  well  be  called  a city — it  counts 
[ this  year  (1852)  120.000  souls  ! and  spreads  upwards  along 
: the  shore,  opposite  Hew  Y'ork,  exactly  as  fast  as  the  latter 
i spreads  upwards — first,  to  the  Havy-yard,  which  is  on  this 
Long  Island  side,  and  to  the  city  of  Williamsburg,  which 
} disdains  to  be  any  longer  an  immense  waterside  village,  so 
i that  this  East  Fiver  is  crowded  by  passage  and  ferry-steamers, 

; and  coasters  and  shipping,  so  thick,  that  it  requires  all  then’ 
i clever  address  to  keep  clear  of  each  other.  The  streets  of 
i Brooklyn  go  up-hill  at  once  ; lots  of  omnibuses  ply  to  take 
| you  anywhere  and  everywhere,  like  their  brothers  in  Broad- 
way. I got  in  one,  going  two  or  three  miles,  by  the  Havy- 
yard  and  Seaman’s  asylum,  &c.,  to  Williamsburg  ; which,  as 
I I have  said,  faces  the  extreme  north  suburbs  and  slips,  and 
: shipping  on  the  East  Fiver  wharves  of  Hew  York.  Here, 
too,  the  merchants  have  then’  country-houses,  and  less  rich 
i citizens  live  here,  as  house-rent  is  not  so  stunning  as  in  the 
i -city  itself.  Taxes  are  light,  but  rents  are  quite  beyond  our 
^ ideas  of  extravagance  in  all  the  great  leading  streets  of  Hew 
York — they  are  a caution  ! 

The.  Havy-yard  (where  I saw  a frigate  and  line-of-battle 
| ship  moorecl)  is  painted  yellow,  its  walls,  sheds,  storehouses, 
I &e.,  the  effect  not  good.  It  lies  in  a cove  of  shallow  waters, 

, parcelled  out  by  long  ranges  of  viaducts,  timber  jetties, 
I basins,  &c.,  as  far  as  IVilliamsburg ; the  yard  alone  covers 
■forty  acres.  As  we  rode  along  we  got  a little  bit  of  primitive 
l America ; bad  roads  and  board-houses,  painted  white,  at 


36 


NEWSPAPEK  BOYS. 


some  of  which  some  of  our  smartly  dressed  young  ladies  got 
out— they  had  been  over  to  the  Empire  City  shopping,  or 
paying  visits ; for  there  is  a great  deal  of  visiting  of  a 
morning  (eleven  and  twelve  o’clock)  among  American  ladies. 
The  gentlemen  are  all  too  busy  at  their  stores,  or  oil  ’Change, 
or  at  their  ships. 

We  pass  the  Naval  Asylum,  a noble  building,  and  standing 
high — this  shore  is  everywhere  greatly  elevated,  rising  at 
once  from  the  water’s  edge,  overlooking  New  York.  Williams- 
burg is  quite  a new  creation,  and  going  ahead  beyond  all 
precedent,  even  here  ! I got  down  at  a tavern  stand,  and  as 
there  was  nothing  beyond  a long,  straggling,  badly  macadam- 
ized street  to  see  (some  of  the  houses  very  good),  I started 
back  from  the  next  steam  wharf,  by  way  of  looking  down- 
wards on  this  crowded  scene  of  floating  activity  ; even  our 
Thames  sinks  in  the  comparison,  if  one  excepts  the  packing 
of  our  colliers  and  barges  in  the  Pool.  I forgot  the  Green- 
wood Cemetery,  on  Long  Island,  of  two  hundred  acres  in 
extent,  to  accommodate  the  great  Empire  City  opposite,  as 
well  as  themselves  ; indeed,  all  these  cities  on  this  south  end 
of  Long  Isla:  1 ‘ 1 1 the  wealth  and  overflowing 


population  of  INew  iork,  lor  .Long  Island  itself  has  nothing 
but  a few  villages  and  its  farming  people  ; — indeed,  for  a long 
track  of  its  centre  it  is  still  a wilderness,  only  now  getting 
chalked  out  in  lots,  and  selling  in  twenty-five  dollar  shares 
by  sections  ; tickets  are  in  the  market  like  railway  shares. 

Though  newspapers  are  quite  a drug,  and  by  rooms-full, 
from  every  town  in  the  Union,  yet  is  it  very  essential  to  buy 
your  own  paper  of  a morning — all  the  hotels  have  their  little 
barefooted  Pats  in  rags,  with  bundles  of  the  Herald,  and  one 
or  two  cent  papers  for  sale.  They  are,  in  fact,  part  of  the 
lobby  or  entrance  establishment  of  all  the  hotels — and  funny 
imps  they  are,  in  a transition  state,  casting  their  tadpole 
tails,  of  sleepy,  stupid  ignorance,  imported  from  the  Emerald 
Isle,  and  running  like  fun  on  their  newly-acquired  go-ahead 
legs ! Their  wits  extra-sharpened,  and  fast  losing  their  brogue. 

“ Eait,  it’s  little  mudder  or  daddy  cares  what  I does,  it’s 
not  the  likes  of  them  as  will  mind  me.  Here’s  for  a cent — 
here’s  for  two — wliich’ll  yer  have  ! Mind  that  chap,  sir  ; he’d 
steal  the  teeth  out  o’  your  head,  he,  he,  he  !”  This,  as  they 
rush  to  you,  if  you  make  a sign  to  buy.  They  work  in  gangs, 
and  beset  the  publishers  on  their  own  account,  as  our  boys 
do  our  offices  on  their  master’s  account.  Thus  are  they! 
early  cast  on  their  own  resources,  and  are  as  ’cute  as 
’possums. 

Meantime  their  relations,  fathers,  mothers,  sisters,  are  for 
a long  time  worse  off  than  at  home ; the  town  is  filled  by 
dirty  ragged  objects  from  the  mother  country,  as  miserable,! 


IRISH  SERVANT  GIRLS, 


37 


as  wretched-looking  as  they  ever  -were,  but  not,  maybe,  so 
hungry,  and  they  can  get  whisky  for  a few  cents.  Thus  they 
go  on,  in  drunken  idleness,  and  rags  and  dirt,  in  all  the  back 
slums  and  alleys,  just  as  in  Liverpool  or  London.  As  to 
going  to  the  backwoods  or  farming ! not  one  in  a hundred 
ever  dreams  of  such  a thing;  besides,  they  generally  land 

• without  a dollar.  After  years,  they  get  absorbed  in  the 
general  demand  for  labour  ; even  idle  or  half-done  work ; for 
nobody  will  work,  except  for  themselves,  with  auy  sort  of 

- activity. 

The  servants  of  all  work  in  all  the  great  houses  are  Irish 

- and  German — one  may  imagine  the  mess  they  make  of  it ! 
and  as  soon  as  a little  trained  and  decent,  they’re  off  with  the 

■ few  dollars  they  get  to  a new  place,  or  to  get  married,  and 
: start  on  their  own  account ; this  order  of  things  is  invariable. 

■ jNIo  wonder  the  Americans  adopt  the  boarding  system,  such 
expensive  plagues  are  all  sorts  of  servants.  As  to  style,  few 

: attempt  it,  even  in  the  first  houses  : some  few  have  niggers, 

■ or  mulatto  footmen,  who  drive  the  carriage,  wait  at  table, 
clean  knives,  are  their  masters’  valets,  and  do  all  other  jobs, 
any  how.  Often  at  fine  town  houses  (the  scale  of  their 

• houses  is  larger  than  ours,  if  I except  some  of  our  West-end 
in  London)  you  ring,  an  Irish  Judy  comes  to  the  door,  dirty 
as  a scullion ; you  ask  for  her  master  or  mistress.  “ Oh, 
then,  they’ll  be  in ; here,  go  in  there  and  sit  down,  I’ll  tell 
Mrs.  Jones  you’ll  be  wanting  her.”  She  opens  the  parlour- 
door,  and  you  walk  into  a large  darkness-visible  apartment, 
finely  furnished.  All  the  still  life  appointments  are  good  and 
handsome. 

Prom  all  that  I can  see  and  gather,  in  print  and  in  conver- 
sation, the  Americans  appear  to  have  no  idea  of  humour,  nor 
of  wit,  in  a refined  sense.  They  are  good  reasoners,  when 
not  ran  away  with  by  excitement  and  pique ; but  the  chief 
articles  of  their  journals-  and  periodicals  are  all  supplied  by 
-!  England  ; of  their  ten  thousand  papers  all  are  mere  copies  of 
each  other,  and  store  advertisements  ; some  of  which  are 

■ certainly  original  enough.  Everything  is  “first  rate”  and 
splendid,  like  our  own  puffing,  but  they  even  go-ahead  of  us. 

! In  their  print  shops  I see  a wretched  attempt  to  quiz  John 
Bull,  who,  dressed  after  the  fashion  of  the  last  centnry,  is 
weeping  at  the  success  of  the  clipper  America.  But  one  secs 
nothing  in  the  shape  of  engraving  or  the  fine  arts,  except 
English  and  French  known  pictures  and  lithographs.  The 
one  thing  they  excel  in  is  their  daguerreotype  miniatures  ; 
they  are  capital,  and  are  seen  in  every  shop-window.  The 
whole  race  are  daguerreotyped,  with  a severity  of  sour  ex- 
pression, very  funny ; the  cheap  ones,  at  a dollar  or  two,  are, 

; however,  poor  things. 


38 


THEATRES,  THE  DRAMA. 


New  York  is  tlie  head-quarters  of  the  French ; their  fashions 
and  their  jewellery  hear  away  the  palm.  There  arc  a great  many 
Germans,  too  ; one  hears  it  spoken  k good  deal ; hut  except  in  ' 
an  indefatigable  smoking,  they  are  not  much  imitated. 

There  are  not  a great  many  negroes  about ; one  sees  more 
mulattoes,  men  and  women,  but  seldom  better  off  or  better 
dressed  than  the  slaves  in  the  south  ; indeed,  nothing  but  the 
lowest  menial  occupations  are  left  open  to  them,  except  shop- 
keeping, in  which  they  never  rise  higher  than  hucksters, 
greengrocers,  oyster-sellers,  and  shoe-blacks.  Sometimes 
they  drive  a cart  or  a carriage,  but  they  make  bad  masters  of 
horses,  or  of  any  of  the  poor  dumb  ereation — partly  from 
cruelty,  partly  from  laziness. 

As  yet,  I have  only  been  to  one  of  the  theatres — Burton’s, 
behind  the  State  House ; where  I saw  “As  You  Like  It’’ 
better  played  than  at  any  theatre  in  London.  To  be  sure, 
all  the  actors  in  America  are  English,  with  very  few  excep- 
tions'; but  all  ours  come  here  first  or  last ; either  to  star  it,  or 
to  change  their  fortunes.  The  Park  Theatre,  the  Bowery,  j 
Niblo’s,  and  Barnuro’s  Museum,  opposite  the  Astor,  together 
with  various  halls  and  concert-rooms,  form  the  great  points  of 
the  evenings’  amusements.  They  talk  of  building  an  immense 
Opera-house. 

I have  alluded  to  the  larger  scale  of  their  houses  and  shops  i 
compared  with  ours ; but  some  of  the  stores  and  buildings 
are  gigantic — seven  and  eight  stories  high,  with  from  sixty  to  j 
a hundred  windows  on  a side.  Stewart’s  marble  store  on  the 
Broadway  is  most  magnificent ; it  is  the  Howell  and  J ames’s 
of  New  York,  but  is  infinitely  finer  and  larger,  the  whole 
exterior  of  marble.  Indeed,  everywhere,  as  to  marble  and 
granite  facings,  pillars,  pilasters,  cornices,  jambs,  sills,  door- 
posts, steps,  there  is  an  amazing  richness  in  all  the  principal 
streets,  and  the  brickwork  of  their  houses  of  an  inimitable 
neatness  and  strength,  far  beyond  our  buildings  of  late  years 
in  London.  We  have  nothing  to  compare  to  it,  except  some  of 

our  old  houses,  such  as  Lord , in  the  corner  of  Hanover- 

square,  and  a few  others  we  point  to  now  as  curiosities  in  i 
brickwork. 


CHAPTEE  IY. 

PHILADELPHIA  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 

STEAMERS  AND  RAILWAYS — THE  JERSEYS — PACE  OF  THE  COUNTRY. 

There  is  a close  connexion  between  New  York,  Jersey,  and 
Philadelphia — the  Jerseys  supplying  the  connecting  hnk,  as 
I have  said.  From  New  York  there  are  two  railway  and 


CROSSING  THE  JERSEYS. 


39 


steam-boat  routes  to  Philadelphia.  I think  the  most  inte- 
resting one  is  by  steamer,  down  the  bay,  through  the  channel 
between  Staten  Island  and  the  Jersey  shore,  to  South  Amboy, 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Bariton  Biver — this  channel  famous  for 
its  oyster  fishery — thence  by  rail  to  Bordentown,  and  skirt 
the  river  to  Camden  City — a largeish  town  on  the  Delaware, 
opposite  Philadelphia — crossing  by  ferry-boat.  The  upper 
line  I stumbled  on,  ferrying  over  from  the  Battery  slips  to 
Jersey  City,  where  we  got  into  the  cars ; all  the  luggage 
being  in  luggage-vans  on  board,  ready  to  run  on  the  rail  the 
instant  the  boat  touched  the  shore ; you  are  given  a brass 
label,  and  the  same  number  is  strapped  to  your  trunk.  This 
arrangement  holds  good  on  all  the  boat  and  rail  routes 
throughout  the  States ; you  are  hardly  allowed  to  have  in 
hand  the  smallest  parcel  or  carpet-bag.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
room  for  it  inside,  as  you  are  confined  to  a double-armed 
chan  in  the  car  beside  some  stranger,  who  you  hope  may  not 
be  of  large  dimensions,  or  you  are  jammed.  These  chairs 
are  fixed  in  two  rows,  one  on  each  side,  leaving  a passage 
about  two  feet  wide  in  the  middle,  the  whole  length  of  each 
car,  about  fifty  feet ; along  this  passage  circulates  the  con- 
ductor, who  examines,  gives  and  takes  tickets,  the  whole 
length  of  the  train,  the  doors  at  each  end  slamming  as  he 
goes  out  and  in  as  you  proceed,  he  passing  from  one  car  to 
the  next  along  the  projecting  platform  at  each  end,  where  the 
break-wheel  is  fixed,  and  where  an  iron  guard  protects  the 
entrance  as  you  mount  the  steps  at  either  end  ; no  doors  at 
the  side. 

But  to  this  upper  road.  In  a few  miles  it  crosses  a broad, 
rapid  river,  and  by  Elizabeth  Town,  Brunswick,  and  Prince- 
ton, comes  out  on  the  Delaware,  near  the  falls  at  Trenton, 
the  capital  of  the  J erseys,  crosses  by  the  bridge  to  the  Penn- 
sylvania side,  skirting  the  river  twenty-three  miles  down,  to 
Tacony,  where  we  are  once  more  fixed  in  a steamer  for  seven 
or  eight  miles,  down  to  the  Keystone  City’s  wharves,  close  to 
the  rival  line.  They  are  both  at  the  same  fare,  three  dollars ; 
dinner  or  breakfast,  half  a dollar  on  board  the  steamers  ; the 
distance  about  the  same,  one  hundred  miles.  I will  here 
explain  that  all  the  great  American  cities  have  their  second 
home  or  domestic  name.  Thus  New  York  assumes  “ Empire 
City;”  Boston,  “Granite  City;”  Philadelphia,  “Keystone;” 
Baltimore,  “ Monumental;”  Cincinnati,  “ Buck  Eye ;”  New 
Orleans,  “ Crescent  City,”  &c. 

At  the  first  river  we  were  in  an  unhandsome  fix.  The 
wooden  bridge  viaduct  was  just  burned  down  (not  a doubt  on 
purpose  by  some  discontented  fellow  or  gang) ; but  the 
Americans  have  no  time,  and  little  inclination  to  ask  ques- 
tions or  set  on  foot  expensive  detective  constables.  They 


40 


NATIVE  SWELL  MOB. 


were  steadily  at  work  clearing  away  the  charred  piles,  and 
driving  new  ones  for  the  immediate  planting  of  a new  bridge. 
The  aspect  of  the  J erseys  just  here  is  not  inviting ; marsh 
meadows  and  swamps,  framed  to  the  north-west  by  low  hills, 
getting  still  more  llat  in  a sandy  light  soil  to  Cape  May. 

A provisionary  steamer  took  us  across,  and  we  scrambled  up 
the  embankment,  fifty  yards  beyond  the  wreck  of  the  bridge, 
into  a fresh  set  of  cars  beyond.  I was  struck  by  a queer 
placard  on  the  landing,  telling  us  to  “take  care  of  our 
pockets !” — quite  a rural  improvement  on  our  pit-door 
cautions,  but  the  swell-mob  of  the  States  are  great  travellers, 
and  do  business  with  a cool  assurance — quite  a caution. 
From  Princeton  on  to  Trenton  we  followed  the  canal  side, 
where  the  same  fine  mules  were  tracking  numerous  boats. 
All  over  the  States  they  spare  no  pains  or  expense  to  cultivate 
this  breed  of  this  most  useful  creature.  In  size  they  rival 
the  Spanish — in  speed  and  docility  I dare  say  exceed  them. 

Trenton  is  nicely  situated,  and  looks  pleasing  beside  the 
falls  of  the  Delaware,  but  is  still  but  a good  large  town,  and 
aspires  to  no  saucy  second  titles,  like  her  sisters.  They  are 
great  Dissenters,  quiet  Quakers,  sober-sided,  sober-minded, 
eschew  the  vanities,  and  with  a sly  chuckle  make  use  of  the 
great  vanity  fairs  each  side ; so  many  dollars  in  market,  so 
many  for  running  backwards  and  forwards  by  thousands 
across  their  level  improvable  state.  “ They  don’t  want  a 
great,  proud,  corrupt  city,  where  the  mayors  and  corporations 
are  afraid  to  do  their  duty,”  and  are  the  mere  creatures  of 
the  mobocracy. 

Such  is  the  frequency  of  immense  rivers  rushing  to  the 
Atlantic,  that  one  finds  New  York  on  a peninsula,  or  tongue 
of  land ; the  J erseys  another ; and  Philadelphia  built  on 
another,  between  the  Delaware  and  Schuylkill  rivers,  where 
they  are  two  miles  apart,  over  a gently  rising  tongue  of  land, 
all  the  streets  now  running  completely  across  from  one  to  the 
other,  east  and  west ; while  the  crossing  streets,  north  and 
south,  extend  about  three  miles,  the  suburbs  fast  extending — 
land,  houses,  and  house-rent,  every  year  growing  dearer. 

The  Schuylkill  banks  above  the  city  are  hilly,  rocky,  and 
very  picturesque,  often  beautifully  wild,  while  below,  and 
where  it  enters  the  Delaware,  it  partakes  of  the  same  features 
of  flatness,  slightly  undulating  here  and  there.  The  whole 
country  divided  into  moderate-sized  farms,  with  patches  of 
woodland,  getting  more  and  more  scarce  near  the  great  towns, 
and  now  of  the  utmost  value.  Already  coal  is  used  as  the 
better  and  least  expensive  fuel,  extensive  beds  being  worked 
on  the  upper  branches  of  the  Schuylkill,  about  forty  miles 
off,  of  the  kind  called  anthracite.  Burning  with  intense  heat 
and  little  smoke,  it  is  excellent  for  domestic  purposes,  so  that 


PHILADELPHIA  STKEETS. 


41 


the  numerous  and  immense  wood-yards  and  piles  on  the 
wharves  of  thirty  years  ago  in  the  cities  have  nearly  disap- 
peared. 

Philadelphia,  like  New  York,  from  its  level  site,  makes  no 
very  striking  appearance  from  the  Delaware.  One  can  form 
no  idea  of  its  size  except  from  the  western  hills  on  the 
Schuylkill,  looking  down  on  it. 

On  the  Delaware  side  nothing  is  seen  along  its  face  hut  the 
shipping,  warehouses,  and  wharves,  from  the  Navy -yard 
below  it  upwards  for  about  three  miles,  with  here  and  there  a 
church  spire. 

This  whole  flat,  of  two  miles  square,  is  covered  by  streets 
in  squares,  or  “blocks,”  as  regular  as  a chess-board,  the 
centre  street  being  particularly  wide  (120  feet) — of  late  called 
High-street — from  river  to  river,  crossed  by  one  still  wider, 
as  the  centre  avenue,  running  north  and  south,  called  Broad- 
street. 

The  houses  are,  as  a whole,  a size  larger  than  ours,  with 
some  very  noble  mansions  in  the  fashionable  quarter  (that  is, 
in  Cliesnut,  Walnut,  and  Arch  streets,  towards  the  middle  of 
the  town),  but  everywhere  one  is  struck  by  immense  build- 
ings for  commercial  purposes  in  all  the  streets.  The  marble- 
faced bank,  exchange,  hotels,  and  others,  are  very  conspi- 
cuous, and  have  been  too  often  described  to  dwell  on  here. 
Of  late  years,  the  quacks  and  apothecaries  seem  to  outdo 
everybody  in  extraordinary  fortunes  and  immense  temples  for 
the  sale  of  drugs,  six  and  seven  stories  high,  with  marble  and 
granite  facings,  hundreds  of  windows,  and  richly  fantastic 
facades.  One  in  Chesnut-street,  near  the  busy  hum  of  the 
Exchange,  the  brokers,  the  barrels,  and  the  ’busses,  is  quite 
monstrous.  But  the  very  last  in  everything  American,  is 
“bound”  to  eclipse  every  other  ambitious  thing  before  it, 
whether  a ship,  a house,  or  more  airy  speculation. 

The  greatest  crowds  and  the  greatest  business  haunts  of  the 
city  he  towards  the  Delaware,  of  course.  The  busiest  haunts 
are  “First,”  “Second,”  “Third,”  and  “Dock”  streets, 
crossed  from  the  west  by  Arch,  Market,  Chesnut,  and  Walnut 
streets,  the  two  last  only  considered  extremely  fashionable, 
as  they  reach  from  the  business  end  westward,  just  as  it  is 
with  ourselves,  in  the  same  way  that  they  are  filled  with 
omnibuses,  running  to  and  fro  from  all  the  suburbs  to  Dock- 
street  and  the  Exchange  near  the  wharves.  They  do  not  say 
“ Bank.”  for  the  fine  marble  United  States  Biddle  Bank  being 
knocked  up,  is  now  the  Custom-house,  and  looks  very  deserted 
and  chopfallen,  being  at  present  about  the  mark  where  Ches- 
nut-street beaux  and  belies  turn  back  upwards,  and  where 
they  parade  and  show  their  fine  dresses,  the  limit  westward 
being  as  high  up  as  Eleventh-street.  This  three-quarters  of 


42 


BRICKWORK  AND  PAVEMENTS. 


a mile  of  pavement  on  tlie  south,  or  State-house  side,  is 
crowded  of  an  afternoon,  before  and  after  dinner.  Besides, 
here  are  all  the  most  dashing  shops  ; their  windows  may  not 
quite  reach  the  rich  display  of  our  first-rate  ones,  but  very 
near,  and  a vast  number  are  even  larger  than  ours  within, 
more  lofty  and  of  greater  extent.  The  French,  I think,  take 
the  lead.  But  shops  now-a-days,  like  the  fashions  of  the  civi- 
lized world,  are  much  of  the  same  cut  everywhere.  Here, 
and  all  over  the  Union,  they  divide  their  patronage  between 
London  and  Paris,  with  rather  a leaning  to  the  latter.  I 
thought  the  poorest  show  and  worst  taste  was  in  their  silver-  1 
smiths’  and  jewellers’  displays ; all  them  silver  plate,  of  the 
most  preposterous  shapes,  very  showy. 

The  street  pavements  are  wretched,  as  in  all  their  towns 
— much  as  ours  were  fifty  years  ago — the  same  round,  smooth 
stones  set  on  end,  assisted  by  great  mud  holes,  enough  to 
dislocate  one’s  limbs.  How  their  spider-wheeled  vehicles 
get  over  them  is  marvellous.  Churches  and  chapels  abound 
— some  very  fine  buildings,  with  handsome  spires ; several 
public  libraries  and  concert-rooms.  Three  or  four  theatres 
are  generally  well  filled,  including  Barnum’s  Museum.  He 
seems  to  have  one  of  those  enormous  theatro-museo  omnium  !) 
fjcitherums  in  every  large  city,  often  with  a band  outside 
all  day  playing  (Richardson’s  booth  fashion),  and  a great 
display  of  flags.  The  Americans  are  fond  of  having  the  star 
and  stripes  flying  over  head  in  them  streets,  or  hanging  from  j 
lines  drawn  across ; and  this,  one  would  say  at  first  sight, 
■was  the  only  thing  to  forcibly  put  one  in  mind  of  not  being 
at  home,  in  one  of  our  own  towns.  But  no  ; there  are  fifty  , 
things  to  tell  the  Englishman  that  he  is  in  a new  country, 
three  thousand  miles  off. 

The  houses  are  indeed  of  brick  (better  brick,  better 
mortar,  and  better  work  than  ours),  but  the  facades  are  half 
covered  by  the  green  blinds  or  shutters.  Ho  under-ground 
kitchens,  no  areas,  no  area-railings.  Slanting  cellar-doors 
protrude  on  the  pavement — our  fashion  in  old  times.  Here 
we  see  the  anthracite  coals  shot  down,  always  broke  in  bits  as 
regular  as  our  Macadam  stones,  and  shining  like  black  i 
diamonds  indeed,  or  here  and  there  cords  of  wood  sawing 
ready  for  the  cold  weather.  Apropos,  all  the  stoves  are  on 
Dr.  Arnot’s  principle  in  the  rooms,  in  all  sorts  of  shapes,  and 
no  fire  is  seen.  One  requires  to  get  used  to  not  seeing  the 
fire.  Some  houses  are  heated  by  flues  from  top  to  bottom, 
throwing  the  hot  air  at  you  from  the  fireplace  that  should  be. 
They  have  no  first-floor  drawing-rooms ; the  ground-floor 
parlours  serve  that  purpose,  which  does  for  dining-room  too ; 
or  it  may  be  in  a back  wing,  which  almost  all  their  houses  have. 

There  is  a great  profusion  of  white  marble  everywhere — 


TTANT  OF  LTTNGS. 


43 


door-steps,  sills  of  windows  and  frames,  door-jambs,  pilasters, 
columns,  cornices,  pediments  on  all  tlie  facades  in  profusion, 
and  everywhere  perfectly  bright  and  clean ; indeed,  the  pave- 
ment is  kept  too  much  hi  a slop  by  the  brass  squirts  and  plug 
hoses  constantly  washing  windows  and  steps,  forming,  in 
winter,  famous  slides  for  the  boys,  and  break-neck  affairs  for 
the  rest  of  the  citizens. 

Then,  again,  most  of  the  streets  have  rows  of  trees  on  each 
side  ; but  here,  too,  as  in  all  their  cities,  no  park,  no  gardens, 
no  walks  ; two  or  three  squares  full  of  trees  are  the  only  lungs 
left.  The  old  State-house-square  still  remains,  and  becomes 
precious ; and  so  is  the  Washington-square  near  it,  where 
those  beautiful  creatures,  the  grey  squirrel,  are  seen  gambol- 
ling, undisturbed  by  schoolboys  and  scamps,  who  would  soon 
settle  them  with  us.  I often  took  them  chesnuts,  and  amused 
myself  watching  their  playful  hide-and-seek  round  the  trunks 
of  the  trees.  I think  this  tells  in  favour  of  the  American 
juveniles ; they  may,  indeed,  be  watched  sharper  than  ours 
in  public  places,  but  it  is  certain  our  boys,  from  our  Eton  to 
our  ragged-school  tribe,  grow  up  with  no  inculcated  idea  of 
humanity  or  feeling  for  any  living  thing,  on  four  legs  or  two. 
They  torment,  kill,  and  destroy  all  they  can,  or  amuse  them- 
selves, in  default,  at  the  sport  of  tormenting  or  punching  each 
oiher. 

All  the  seaboard  cities  have  been  so  often  described,  and 
our  cousins  so  often  criticised,  that  although  I jot  down  a few 
thoughts  and  impressions,  the  very  last  which  reaches  us,  I 
am  not  sure  that  I shall  say  anything,  beyond  marking  the 
change  which  is  taking  place  in  men  and  things,  even  more 
striking  than  among  ourselves.  Ho  people  are  more  volatile 
in  fashions.  Even  here,  in  this  drab-coloured  domain,  broad 
hats,  straight  collars,  and  hooks  and  eyes,  have  quite  disap- 
peared. ike  Quaker  women  alone  (as  with  ourselves)  stick- 
ing to  their  drab  silk  bonnet,  with  all  its  primitive  ugliness. 
Kor  would  the  young  ones  be  “ read  out  of  meeting”  if  they 
appeared  in  Chesnut-street  in  all  the  last  feather  and  lace  and 
velvet  fashions.  Among  the  young  fellows,  beards,  mous- 
tachios,  imperials,  Kossuth  hats,  paletots,  and  all  sorts  of 
extravagant  plaids  and  rainbow  ties  confront  one.  Every- 
where dissent  from  the  “Established  Church”  splits  itself  up 
all  over  the  States  into  hundreds  of  sects  unknown  in  Eng- 
land. The  Quakers  are  nobodies,  if  old — nay,  old  folks,  no 
matter  what  then’  belief,  chapel,  or  church,  all  fathers  and 
mothers  are  nobodies.  I should  say,- of  all  places  on  the  face 
of  the  earth,  grey  hairs  are  least  honoured  in  the  United 
States.  They  are  scarcely  masters  in  their  own  houses  from 
the  moment  the  young  ones  are  full  hedged.  But  fust  let  me 
observe  the  face  of  the  material  world  here — town  and 


41 


GIRARD,  AND  FREEMASONS. 


country.  In  a pleasure-loving  people  one  is  struck  with  the 
besetting-sin  in  every  city  of  having  no  public  gardens  (the 
last  were  burned  in  a riot),  no  parks,  no  suburb  promenade 
of  any  sort.  Here,  then,  is  nothing  but  Chesnut-street,  up 
and  down,  with  the  audience  at  all  the  hotel  doors  and  bal- 
conies. There  is,  indeed,  the  cemetery,  which  nobody  goes 
to,  at  Laurel-hill,  three  miles  off,  beyond  the  new  Girard 
College,  which  has,  say  they,  already  cost  too  much,  is  in 
bad  taste,  and,  to  hide  its  other  faults,  is  pent  up  in  four  high 
walls. 

Yesterday  there  was  a grand  commemoration  day:  aud 
some  curiously  fine  speeches  at  this  Girard  College  ; to  which 
all  the  freemasons  of  this  city  marched  full  dress,  two  and 
two,  forming  a procession  a mile  or  a mile  and  a-lialf  long — 
some  thousands.  A fierce  hot,  dusty  day  ; each  lodge  with  its 
band,  each  member  with  a sprig  of  cypress  at  his  coat  button- 
hole, to  do  honour  to  the  memory  of  this  western  world 
llothscliild  ; but  the  trustees  have  made  sad  hash  of  the  be- 
queathed dollars  (in  the  same  way  the  secretaries  trustees 
have  built  a miserable,  fantastic  College  or  Athenaeum  at 
Washington,  out  of  the  half  million  of  dollars  left  them  by  our 
late  mineralogical  philosopher,  Mr.  Smithson,  called  the 
“Smithsonian  Institute”).  It  would  seem  that  moneys  left 
in  trust  for  the  good  of  the  public,  as  it  is  in  England,  is  made 
rare  ducks  and  drakes  of. 

Well,  this  penitentiary  -looking  Girard  College  is  on  the  left 
of  the  great  avenue  running  north  towards  Fairmount  Water- 
works, where  the  river  Schuylkill  is  dammed  up,  and  the 
water  thrown  up  on  the  hill  reservoir  ; and  this  is  the  only 
thing  the  fair  sex  can  reckon  on  for  a walk,  when  they  do  get 
there  in  their  omnibuses,  a distance  of  three  miles ; but  as  the 
city  keeps  creeping  northward,  it  may  be  now  fairly  called  in 
the  suburbs.  Here  a range  of  hills  begin  on  both  banks  of 
the  Schuylkill,  and  the  ground  rises  in  a healthy  schistus  rock, 
running  across  towards  the  Delaware,  and  it  forms  ilie 
favourite  spot  of  late  years  for  the  villas  of  the  wealthy  mer- 
chants from  the  banks  of  the  river  above  Fairmount  to  Ger- 
mantown ; a long,  straggling  village,  six  miles  off,  the  healthiest 
spot  anywhere  round  the  city.  This  Germantown  for  many 
years  remained  iu  its  old  stone-housed,  steep-roofed,  farm- 
yarded  state,  in  one  street  of  tliree  miles  long,  for  a space  out 
of  the  “memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant;”  but  they  are  now 
building  in  it  like  mad ; a single  line  of  rail  runs  to  it,  north, 
out  of  Ninth-street,  and  every-body  wants  to  live  there,  very 
naturally.  Worn  out  as  farms,  it  cuts  ujj  well  in  building- 
lots  ; nothing  is  seen  along  the  roads  but  the  shining  mica  of 
the  rock,  which  is  very  soft  and  dry.  Crops  are  thin — wont 


DBIVING  OUT  OF  TOWN.  45 

pay ; but  here  health  is  safe  from  the  insidious  attacks  of  the 
fever  and  ague,  so  rife  along  the  banks  of  both  rivers  ! 

Its  old  woods  have  long  disappeared,  and  its  trees  since 
sprung  up,  are  Scotch  lirs,  full  of  robins,  who  twitter  and  sing 
the  praises  of  the  spot.  Here  the  country  is  very  agreeably 
undulated ; the  hills  and  valleys  are  cutting  out  on  each  side 
of  the  one  interminable  Dutch-street,  into  lanes  full  of  tine 
villas  and  cottages  ornee,  for  which  the  Philadelphians  pay  a 
rent  flu-  beyond  what  we  pay  for  such  things  six  miles  from 
London.  So  it  has  turned  ouc  a perfect  California  for  the 
farmers ; and  no  lords  of  the  manor  check  its  growth ; no 
teasing  ground-rent  and  lease  buttons  up  citizens’  pockets — 
all  is  freehold.  We  need  look  no  further  for  the  slow  growth 
of  our  own  country  towns,  or  for  the  cause  of  the  wretchedly 
small  and  badly-built  houses  in  all  the  outskirts  of  London. 
The  extravagant  rate  of  house-rent  in  all  the  American  cities 
is  easily  accounted  for  in  the  greater  riches  and  ease  of  the 
people  at  large.  They  can  afford  it ; while  their  taxes,  though 
increasing,  are  still  as  nothing  compared  with  ours. 

But  ob,  let  me  quit  the  money-making  world  and  its  gods, 
put  myself  in  a buggy,  or  fast  “ wagon,”  beside  a young  gent, 
whose  mare,  Dolly,  flies  along  a mile  in  four  and  a-half  minutes 
(live  minutes,  if  she’s  lazy).  Away  we  go,  free  from  Macadam 
and  turnpikes,  splash  through  ruts,  mud,  holes,  or  bowling 
along  on  these  gossamer-spoked  wheels,  noiseless  as  we  spin 
by.  It  is  quite  wonderful  what  these  wagons  can  do ; how 
exquisitely  tough  they  are.  A very  light  one  for  racing 
weighs,  perhaps,  one  hundred  pounds  ; mine  was  probably, 
two  huudred  weight,  wheels  and  all.  The  horse  does  not  feel 
it  behind  him ; no  whipping,  the  very  sound  of  the  whip  is 
too  much.  We  fly.  Hold  fast — I certainly  expected  a spill 
before  we  got  to  the  Falls ’-village  on  the  Schuylkill,  a sweet 
romantic  spot,  just  above  where  the  Norristown  Hallway  via- 
duct crosses  the  river,  and  near  where  the  beauteous  Wissa- 
hiccon  Creek  rushes  over  its  once  pebbled  bed  to  join  the 
river. 

The  fashionable  hotel  here  is  presided  over  by  a handsome 
widow.  We  sit  under  a broad  old  wooden  portico,  take  a 
dram  and  light  a fresh  cigar ; lots  of  other  wagons  (flyers) 
are  under  the  sheds,  hitched,  just  to  let  the  critturs  breathe, 
and  their  owners  to  smoke  and  spit  a little,  and  smile  at  the 
widow.  Away  again  up  the  glen  of  this  beauteous  creek  (it 
would  be  a river  with  us),  but  alas  ! they  have  quite  spoiled  it, 
by  damming  it  up  to  grind  flour  and  saw  wood.  How  well 
I recollect  this  sweet  sylvan  scene  ! those  noble  hemlocks,  firs, 
oaks,  and  hickory  shades,  with  the  “ woodpeckers  tapping,” 
the  blackbirds,  the  robins,  when  in  life’s  young  dream  I saun- 


46 


GEEMAN.TOWN;  EAILWAY. 


tered  here  with  my  fishing-rod,  knowing  nothing  of  Isaac 
W alton,  in  a blessed  state  of  ignorance  and  animal  life. 

Winding  up  these  break-neck  hills,  some  at  an  angle  of 
thirty-five  or  forty  degrees,  we  got  into  Schoolhouse  lane,  and 
dash  into  Germantown,  at  the  Buttonwood  Tree  Hotel — 
another  house  of  call  for  all  the  fast  “wagon”  youth  of  Phila- 
delphia. If  they  wouldn’t  go  quite  so  fast,  these  rides  would 
be  indeed  very  delightful ; but  the  sensation  is,  that  striking  ! 
a stone,  or  the  least  stumble,  would  infallibly  send  us  flying 
over  the  horse’s  head,  or  whirl  one  out  a dozen  yards  in  an 
upset,  with  broken  bones  or  a broken  neck. 

This  Germantown  (Any lice,  Hampstead  or  Hendon)  is  a great 
blessing  to  all  those  easy  enough  to  have  a country  house ; 
indeed,  a great  many  clerks  of  late  years,  and  tradesmen  well 
off  live  here,  coming  backwards  and  forwards  six  miles  by  the 
railway  in  half  an  hour,  for  it  is  a slow  domestic  bit  of  road, 
and  its  snorting  fiery  horse  goes  quietly,  to  allow  the  boys  to 
run  on  before  it  occasionally,  or  cross  it,  and  laugh  at  the 
danger,  if  any.  Some  of  the  numerous  passengers  pay  by 
the  year  (no  second-class  carriages) ; a single  fare  is  fifteen 
cents,  or  sevenpence-Mlfpenny. 

The  conductor,  a tall,  dry,  serious  citizen,  who  walks  back- 
wards and  forwards  taking  the  cents  or  the  tickets,  is  known 
to  all  his  passengers  as  “ Major,”  and  has  a friendly  word  at 
each  double-armed  chair  as  lie  passes.  He  has  been  “hollar- 
ing arter  them  ere  young  varmint  to  get  off  the  rail ; they’d 
better  mind,  I tell  you,  or  the  ‘cars’  ’ll  fix  ’em  some  day  yet, 

I guess.” 

I often  came  to  this  breezy,  rocky,  sandy,  upland  Dutch 
village,  walking  its  whole  length  (three  miles)  to  Chesnut  ! 
Hill,  where  at  Chew’s  (sometimes  called  Maclanagan’s,  for 
shortness)  old  house  us  Britishers  had  a smart  skirmish  in  the 
old  war.  The  turnpike-road  through  the  town  is,  like  all 
American  turnpikes,  unspeakably  execrable  ; no  Englishman 
can  even  imagine  such  a contrivance  of  stones,  and  holes,  and 
ruts,  with  partial  side  pavements  to  match  ; but  all  this  just 
now  constitutes  one  of  its  beauties,  and  helps  the  delusion  of 
being  a hundred  miles  away  from  the  great  Keystone  City,  of  J 
which  people  get  tired — towards  Sunday  at  any  rate. 

In  forty  years  I see  no  perceptible  change.  The  primitive  ' 
Dutch  have,  indeed,  mostly  died  off,  or  cleared  out  for  the 
Ohio,  but  the  stone,  houses  remain,  with  the  very  same  shingle 
roofs  I do  believe.  But  the  openings,  the  extended  arms 
chalked  out  on  each  side,  long  roads  and  lanes,  are  fast  filling 
up  with  every  description  of  board  and  brick  cottage,  villa,  and 
lodge,  quite  after  our  own  last  fashions  in  such  things,  but  on  i 
a larger  scale,  and  without  gardens  or  lawns,  with  most  rare  | 
exceptions,  or  of  any  attempt  at  any  ornamental  ground  of  any  i 


SPOILED  CHILDEEN. 


47 


sort ; if  tliere  is  a square  bit  at  the  back  called  a garden,  it  is 
simply  fenced  in  for  potatoes,  onions,  and  cabbages,  for  there 
is  no  market,  and  nothing  whatever  to  be  had  in  the  town 
(yes,  bread  and  milk),  except  at  capricious  intervals,  and  at 
exorbitant  prices  ! The  fact  is  truly  American : nobody 
thinks  it  worth  while  to  minister  to  any  other  body ; if  the 
thing  or  trade  amounts  to  a rich  “placer,”  why  then,  perhaps, 
they  take  to  it,  but  with  an  irregularity  truly  independent. 
In  short,  the  country  round  is  supplied  by  the  Philadelphia 
market  just  as  it  is  contrived  in  London,  where  everything  is 
taken  in  the  first  instance,  and  taken  back  again  into  the 
country  for  ten  or  twelve  miles  round ; only  here  housekeepers 
must  take  it  out  home  themselves,  or  go  without. 

How  many  good  things  there  are  in  the  States  exquisitely 
good ! — but,  settler,  whoever  you  are,  you  must  take  the  per 
contra  in  a disgusting  dose,  unless  you  are  indeed  very  young 
and  very  green.  Everybody  (except  ten  in  a thousand  of  the 
fashionable  world)  does  just  what  they  please.  There  is 
. nobody  to  direct  anybody,  nobody  is  in  the  least  controlled, 
least  of  all  by  the  daily  papers  or  public  opinion.  Thence  the 
amusing  and  awkward  things  one  witnesses,  and  which  must 
be  put  up  with,  perhaps  smiled  at,  if  you  can  bring  yourself 
to  that  sweet  frame  of  mind  which  bursts  forth  in  “ Mark 
Tapley”  in  the  words,  “ This  is  jolly — comfortable  and  yet 

they  are  extremely  like  ourselves,  with  an  independent,  con- 
venient, inconvenient,  transatlantic  difference. 

Captain  Mackinnon  and  Mr.  Chambers  are  the  last  who 
have  talked  of  “ domestic  manners.”  He  notices  the  pernicious 
way  some  child  was  spoiled  by  its  mother ; I often  see  the 
same  thing.  Baby  citizens  are  allowed  to  run  wild  as  the 
Snake  Indians,  and  do  whatever  they  please ; not  only  mothers 
take  no  notice,  but  fathers  are  equally  deaf  and  blind.  How 
it  is  that  these  unlicked  cubs,  girls  and  boys,  ever  grow  up 
into  staid,  peaceable  citizens,  and  acquire  fortunes,  and  turn 
out  sensible,  sharp  people,  is  the  marvel ! or  that  they  do  not 
die  of  clarified  molasses  and  gobbling  mixtures  of  rich  food 
long  before  they  become  men  and  women ! 

I betray  no  confidences  when  I set  down  an  ordinary  dia- 
logue, which  may  be  constantly  heard  all  over  the  Union. 

The  girl  or  boy — having  their  plate  full  of  beefsteak,  corn- 
bread,  poached  eggs,  buckwheat  cakes,  buttered ; the  whole 
swimming  in  molasses  : 

Child. — I want  some  ham. 

Mother. — M ell,  you  ain’t  no  room. 

Child. — I want  some  ham — (louder). 

Mother. — I guess  you  won’t  like  it.  (To  waiter)  Hand  the 
ham  up.  (Helps  the  little  animal.) 

Child,-— I -want  some  homany. 


48 


EDUCATED  YOUNG  LADIES. 


Mother. — My!  well,  any  how,  you  ain’t  ate  a'most  nothing. 
(Helps.) 

Finally,  the  child,  after  mauling  it  about  in  a listless  way, 
leaves  perforce  half  the  monstrous  accumulation  in  its  plate 
untouched.  Luckily,  the  boys  are  taken  out  of  their  feeble 
hands,  go  to  school,  and  half  educate  themselves  in  intuitive 
crude  knowingness,  but  the  girls  remain  under  such  mothers’  j 
supervision.  As  they  grow  up,  if  well  off,  the  piano  and 
singing  is  attempted,  but  no  sort  of  judicious  study  or  reading 
is  given  them,  or  any  ordinary  maxims  instilled  ; nor  their  i 
hours  or  studies  in  the  least  regulated,  or  their  tastes  properly 
directed;  neither  method,  order,  or  industry,  all  is  left  to 
settle  itself  anyhow — very  often  at  their  own  caprice  or  whim  ; 
while,  if  sent  to  school,  they  are  crammed  with  abstruse  sub- 
jects,  perhaps  the  mathematics  or  surgery — in  books  wholly 
improper  for  young  females — or  mineralogy  and  Italian,  or 
even  Latin,  but  all  in  the  most  superficial  way;  taught  by 
schoolmistresses  who  evidently  know  nothing  themselves,  not 
even  the  twenty-four  hours  in  advance  of  their  scholars  of  the 
hedge-schoolmaster,  of  pleasant  memory.  They  are  taught 
to  dress  fine,  and  dance,  but  the  taste  in  both  left  totally  un- 
guided; in  a word,  everything  is  left  to  their  own  discretion  i 
and  intuitive  powers  of  finding  out.  The  results  are  occa- 
sionally startling.  And  certainly  the  young  ladies  do  talk — ye 
gods,  how  they  do  talk ! Politics,  the  stars,  and  globe,  flirta- 
tions, scandal,  chemistry,  daguerreotype,  namby-pamby  poetry 
(never  of  any  old  or  good,  nor  of  Shakespeare),  but  the  opera 
and  the  last  polkas,  acting,  and  Uncle  Tom.  But,  however 
frivolous,  however  misdirected,  the  education  of  the  wealthier 
American  girls,  the  same  thing  may  be  said  of  the  great  body 
of  our  own  citizens  at  home.  The  only  novelty  lies  in  the 
tone  and  manner  of  it ; the  bolder  and  more  independent 
carriage  here,  by  which  grown-up  young  ladies  take  the  lead 
of  their  own  still  youngish  mothers,  who  very  often  are  little 
better  than  servants  in  their  own  house,  while  their  dashing 
daughters  are  parading  Chesnut-street,  attending  lectures  on  i 
the  rights  of  women,  or  actually  coming  out  in  the  Bloomer 
costume.  They  are  even  more  fond  of  balls  and  dancing  than, 
we  are.  At  several  balls  given  lately,  according  to  the  annual 
custom  of  the  Go-a-liead  Firemen  and  Hose  Companies,  the 
great  attraction  of  the  evening  was  the  show-off  of  a few 
greatly  daring  Bloomers.  Others  ventured  once  or  twice  to 
parade  Chesnut-street,  but  the  boys,  ever  fond  of  mischief, 
stared  and  laughed,  and  crowded  round  them,  so  that  they 
were  fairly  put  out  of  countenance.  This  Bloomer  idea  is 
soon  caught,  and  is  attempted  in  London ; but  here  it  flourishes 
rather  longer,  and  is  not  so  easily  put  down ; while  various 
halls  and  concert-rooms  are  crowded  by  the  smartly-dressed 


FARMING  CONTRIVANCES. 


49 


youthful  fair,  who  listen  devoutly  to  a great  quantity  of  non- 
sense, vouching  for  the  strict  equality  of  the  sexes  by  male 
and  female  orators. 

How  far  all  this  may ^iold  good  of  the  families  of  the  very 
few  retired  from  trade  on  large  fortunes,  the  “upper  ten,”  I 
know  not ; of  course  they  are  more  retired,  more  select,  more 
prudent,  but  then,  it  must  be  added,  that  they  do  not  lead  the 
fashion  of  the  day,  either  in  thought,  dress,  or  equipage ; 
their  only  distinction  lies  in  a larger  house,  situate  in  the  most 
fashionable  quarter  ; but  let  me  turn  to  the  woods  and  fields. 
The  general  face  of  the  country  here,  and  all  around,  even 
close  to  Philadelphia,  is  peculiar,  and  much  like  what  it  is 
along  the  older  cultivated  parts  of  the  seaboard  from  Maine 
to  Carolina,  where  the  sands  and  swamps,  rice-fields  and 
cotton,  pine  forests  and  lagoons,  give  it  a new  feature  down  to 
the  Floridas.  This  northern  aspect  is  the  raw  look  of  the 
lands  near  the  Eye,  the  fields  divided  by  post  and  rail  fences, 
with  patches  of  wood  here  and  there,  carefully  preserved  as 
parts  of  the  once  forest,  now  most  valuable.  Though,  it  must 
be  confessed,  in  their  ploughing  they  beat  us  ; discarding,  as 
they  always  have,  the  slow  lumber  of  three  or  four  horses  in  a 
string,  with  a man  or  boy  driver,  where  the  horse’s  strength 
is  one-half  thrown  away  tugging  at  the  one  behind  him,  in 
our  clumsy  fashion. 

They  plough  as  quick  again,  two  horses  abreast,  guided  by 
fight  twine  reins  led  through  the  plough  handles,  the  horses 
stepping  out  smartly ; old  turf  or  sod  rarely  has  to  be  broke 
up,  and  the  soil  is  fight ; but  if  to  go  deeper,  or  in  stiffer 
land,  they  put  on  four  horses ; but  the  expedition  and  neat 
economy  of  the  thing  it  is  which  makes  one  wish  our  farmers 
would  adopt  it,  instead  of  the  sluggish  plan  they  still  stick  to, 
when  the  work  of  -one  hand  and  one  horse,  at  least,  is  com- 
pletely thrown  away,  besides  double  the  time  into  the  bargain. 
Their  “ cradling,”  too,  is  very  cleverly  done  (the  scythe  with 
fingers),  followed  by  a raker  and  binder.  The  famous  reap- 
ing machines,  so  vaunted  and  so  uselessly  expensive,  will 
never  be  tried  here.  The  sensation  and  furor  created  in 
England  won’t  go  down  in  America,  though  they  are  fond  of 
the  eclat  it  gave,  to  help  their  few  hits  at  the  Great  Exhibi- 
tion ; but  the  Americans  are  pre-eminently  a practical  people, 
and  won’t  encourage  lumbering,  expensive  machinery  for  the 
sake  of  a very  doubtful  time  saved ! Again,  they  wisely  keep 
up  their  “ harvest  homes,”  and  help  each  other  as  the  corn- 
fields ripen,  so  that  they  throw  thirty  or  forty  men  into  a 
field,  down  with  it,  shock  it,  and  all  complete  in  a day ; 
making  a frolic  of  it,  the  evening  finished  by  an  excellent 
supper,  and,  if  they  can  get  a fiddle,  a dance.  In  all  America 
I do  not  think  so  much  damaged  corn  coidd  be  found  (from 

E 


50 


THE  BLACK  POPULATION. 


delay  at  getting  it  housed)  as  I have  seen  in  one  single  county 
(Kent)  at  home,  owing  to  the  solitary,  dilatory,  peddling  way 
our  farmers  act,  waiting,  it  would  seem,  stupidly  till  the 
patience  of  sunny  days  is  fairly  worn  out,  and  rain  sets  in. 

In  the  same  way  we  have  our  hay  too  often  spoiled — mown 
too  slowly ; the  sunshine  escapes  before  it  is  all  cut ; now,  no 
crop  requires  so  much  vigorous  promptness  ; with  our  parishes 
swarming  with  the  idle  and  unemployed,  one  sees  two  or  : 
three  mowers  in  large  fields  and  meadows.  In  America  they 
muster  all  their  neighbours — down  it  comes  in  a day,  and  is 
really  a frolic,  for  they  laugh,  sing,  and  feast,  and  make  a 
frolic  of  it. 

I stroll  about  Philadelphia  streets  to  find  out  new  things;  ' 
oyster-cellars  and  shoeblacking-cellars,  so  famous  twenty 
years  ago,  arc  gone ; while  the  negro  population,  in  its  own 
“ nigger-quarter”  in  Cedar-street  and  “ along  south,”  seem  to 
me  more  ugly,  poor,  and  ill-dressed  than  formerly.  The  St. 
Giles’s  of  all  American  cities- — what  stuff  we  do  talk  at  home 
about  sentimental  niggers  ! Lady  Sutherland  should  take  a ! 
morning’s  ramble  among  these  laughing,  larking  animals ! 
aping,  in  rags  or  rainbow  finery,  all  the  airs  and  graces  of  the 
sweet  “ white  niggers”  of  Stafford  House!  Tree  or  slaves, 
it  is  all  the  same,  except  that  the  slaves  are  better  dressed 
and  better  fed ! aucl  not  quite  so  idle,  less  careworn,  laugh 
more,  for  they  need  not  think  of  to-morrow.  Good  heavens ! ! 
what  nonsense  our  philanthropists  talk,  and  what  mischief 
they  have  done  our  poor  West  Indies ! I continue  my  walk 
down  Cedar-street,  the  new-come  Irish  alone  fraternize  with 
the  coloured  denizens  of  this  quarter ; as  I pass  the  groups  I 
get  a grin,  or  some  expressive  slang  greeting,  not  to  tread  on 
the  piccaninnies  crawimg  about  in  the  sun.  Jews,  grog-shops, 
and  slops  here  do  thrive. 

Beyond  this  south  quarter  the  suburbs  are  called  Kensing-  > 
ton  and  Moyamensmg ; Passayunk  to  the  north,  “ Spring  ] 
gardens”  and  “ Northern  liberties  but  one  hears  nothing 
but  our  own  familiar  names  generally,  few  or  none  of  the  old 
melodious  Indian  ones  remain  like  these. 

The  wharves  are  filled  with  shipping  and  steamers,  and 
smaller  coasthig  craft,  all  beautiful  and  excellent  of  their 
kind ; but  the  length  of  this  noble  river,  120  miles  to  the  sea, 

' and  its  many  shoals,  prevent  the  immense  Atlantic  commerce  1 
seen  at  new  York ; still  the  business  done  here  and  activity  , 
is  remarkable,  particularly  inland  transport  to  the  Ohio  and 
Par  West. 

W e have  our  river  ship-hulk  chapels  ; but  here,  at  the  foot 
of  Spruce-street,  I find  a handsome  real  wooden  chapel,  with 
fine  spire,  afloat,  chained  to  the  wharf.  This  is  for  seamen, 
too,  and  is  quite  a curiosity.  Men  may  differ  about  the  good  1 


PENNSYLVANIA  ETCHES. 


51 


found  on  the  American  shores,  hut  there  can  he  but  one 
opinion  of  ereiy  floating  thing  they  possess — they  are  so 
admirable;  many  a creeping  hour  I have  “lost  and  neg- 
lected,” looking  at  their  beautiful  boats,  sloops,  schooners, 
smacks,  yawls,  open  or  decked,  or  half-decked,  with  sliding 
centre  keels  ; then  again,  their  noble  masts  ! and  sails  standing 
“like  a board,”  with  the  admirable  economy  and  sea  know- 
ledge of  all  their  fittings  and  contrivances.  Our  sea  lords 
should  be  bound  'prentice  to  these  real  sailors ! and  should 
be  sent  to  study  in  the  American  naval  yards.  The  floating 
docks  at  the  yard  here,  below  the  city,  are  remarkable  for 
their  simplicity  and  efficiency ; they  serve  at  once  as  cradle 
and  dock ; they  could  float  out  a three-decker ; there  is 
little  or  nothing  beyond  repairs  doing  here  now,  but  the 
Navy-yard  is  complete  in  stores,  and  quite  ready  for  any 
emergency. 

Philadelphia,  like  all  the  American  towns,  has  doubled  its 
population  within  these  last  twenty  or  thirty  years  ; it  now 
reaches,  I believe,  half  a million.  With  all  the  attributes  of 
a great  city,  with  less  trade,  but  in  real  riches  it  equals  New 
York,  backed  by  a richer  country,  and  less  dependent  on 
foreign  trade  ; both  states,  indeed,  go  back  to  the  Ohio  and 
the  great  lakes,  but  Pennsylvania  has  a larger  proportion 
cleared,  and  her  farms  are  the  finest  in  the  Union  ; nothing 
can  be  richer  than  her  crops  : wheat,  rye,  Indian  com,  barley, 
oats,  buckwheat,  clover ; cattle  very  numerous  and  of  excel- 
lent breeds  ; their  horses,  as  in  New  York,  celebrated  justly 
for  them  trotting  and  high  courage  ; but  all  quadrupeds  seem 
to  thrive  and  improve,  all— except  cats ! — but  neither  cats 
nor  dogs  are  much  cared  for,  I think,  in  the  States.  Dogs, 
indeed,  are  plentiful  enough,  but  so  mixed,  one  seldom  sees 
a pure  breed;  still  more  rarely  are  they  made  pets  of,  or 
cats  either ; quite  banished  from  all  parlours,  all  play,  all 
familiarity. 

As  in  most  of  the  American  cities,  next  to  the  theatres 
(there  are  three  open  here,  including  Barnum’s  Museum)  are 
concerts  and  lectures  at  the  various  “rooms”  and  “halls”  for 
the  amusement  of  the  citizens,  all  numerously  attended,  often 
crammed.  Sunday  evening,  seeing  a crowd  round  the  Music- 
hall  door,  I went  in  (a  sort  of  Exeter-hall),  paying  six  cents. 
The  place  was  full  of  well-dressed  people,  to  hear  a lecture 
on  Socialism.  I was  soon  tired  of  this  eloquent,  mischievous 
nonsense,  which,  however,  seemed  to  give  great  satisfaction, 
and  harmless  enough  ; for,  in  America,  nobody  minds  beyond 
the  instant  anything  whatever  said  or  written ; they  go  home 
and  mind  their  own  inevitable  business.  Another  evening  I 
went  to  hear  readings  of  Shakespeare,  by  a tall,  thin,  pale 
lady — more  easy  and  natural,  methought,  than  Mrs,  Fanny 


52 


SHAKESPEARIAN  READINGS. 


Kemble’s,  whose  colourings  struck  me  as  too  affected,  too 
violent.  Yet  is  it  difficult  not  to  overstep  “ the  modesty  of 
nature  a difficulty  none  .of  our  actors  ever  attempt,  Still, 
our  beloved  bard  exists,  if  not  to  the  public,  at  least  in  our 
closets.  Of  our  two  publics,  I do  verily  believe  the  American 
will  be  the  first  to  recover  some  little  perception  of  his 
omniscient  beauties.  In  this  respect  them  pits  and  galleries 
are  not  so  very  contemptible  as  ours,  and  do  not  laugh  and 
roar  so  very  often  in  the  wrong  place  ; and  are  infinitely 
more  sparing  of  that  noisy  applause  so  prostituted  among 
ourselves. 

The  gods  here,  indeed,  make  noise  enough,  but  not  at  all 
meant  as  flattering  to  the  actors.  But  to  one  or  two  more 
positive  concerns.  The  city  is  well  supplied  by  the  Fair- 
mount  Waterworks — the  facility  is  enviable — the  great  reser- 
voir being  only  three  miles  off,  on  its  hill,  on  the  left  bank  of 
the  Schuylkill,  as  if  nature  had  so  meant  it,  as  an  inexhaust- 
ible supply  of  pure  water  for  this  great  city ; it  commands 
the  highest  buildings,  and  is  conducted  very  cleverly  along 
all  the  streets.  The  water  and  fire  plugs  are  constantly 
turned  on,  rushing  along  the  gutters  in  all  directions,  cleaning 
the  streets,  or  putting  out  fires,  on  which  attempts,  at  least, 
there  is  a constant  and  vast  consumption. 

The  markets  here  equal  the  New  York  ones  in  richness 
and  profusion ; the  one  held  in  the  greatest  commercial 
street,  Market  or  High-street,  is  full  half  a mile  long,  under 
covered  arcades,  in  the  centre  of  the  street,  from  the  wharf 
on  the  Delaware  (where  the  first  section  is  the  fish  market) 
up  to  Ninth-street ; but  the  country  wagons  (and  pair) 
backed  into  the  pavement  each  side,  and,  side  by  side,  extend 
almost  to  Broad-street,  or  the  centre  of  the  city,  a full  mile. 
The  profusion  is  quite  charming:  The  tilings,  in  their  season, 
not  seen  with  us,  are  the  Indian  corn,  to  boil  as  a vegetable ; 
sweet  potatoes,  much  eaten  and  very  good : persimons, 
liiccory  nuts,  and  shelbarks,  ground  nuts,  cranberries,  huckle- 
berries, pumpkins  and  calabashes,  water  melons,  dried  apples 
and  peaches  (cut  small),  sour  krout,  and  fifty  other  roots  and 
fruits  peculiar  to  this  country.  All  the  poultry  large  and 
fine,  but  looking  yellow  and  ill-plucked ; but  very  moderate 
in  price,  comparatively. 

Considering  the  great  quantities  of  the  supply,  the  prices 
appear  rather  high — certainly  very  much  higher  these  last 
five-and-twenty  years ; poultry  and  meat,  of  all  sorts,  less 
than  in  London ; butter  and  eggs  dearer.  Fish  is  cheap. 
They  have  no  soles  ; but  among  others  we  have  not  is  the 
shad,  an  excellent  fish ; I think  it  is  a distant  cousin  of  the 
salmon.  I do  not  see  any  turbot  or  John  Dory,  but  them 
piles  of  oysters  are  prodigious. 


DEAFNESS  OF  BEEAD. 


53 


One  thing  struck  me  forcibly.  How  is  it  that  bread  is  not 
much  cheaper  here  than  in  England,  in  so  grain-growing 
a state  as  Pennsylvania ; touching  the  Ohio,  too,  where 
flour  is  quite  a drag?  Hay,  the  Wilmington  flour  mills,  on 
the  Brandywine,  a few  miles  down  the  Delaware  (a  town 
of  mills),  grinds  flour  enough,  one  would  think,  for  half  the 
Union. 

And  yet  the  bakers  keep  the  daily  bread  here  at  the  foun- 
tain-head not  a bit  cheaper  than  in  London.  This  is  the 
proof  of  the  pudding ; and  how  satisfactory  it  is  to  think  that, 
in  spite  of  our  own  honest  bakers,  we  have  got  our  bread 
down  to  sevenpence  the  quartern  loaf.  I do  not  find  the 
fancy  bread  here  so  nice  as  our  own,  and,  as  to  pastry-cooks, 
they  are,  besides  being  much  more  expensive,  a hundred  years 
‘behind  ours.  They  affect  the  Erench  trash — no  fruit,  all 
paste  and  sugar,  and  bon-bon  insipidities. 

In  the  same  way,  the  keep  of  horses  at  livery  stables  is 
higher  than  with  us  in  London,  and  in  a very  slovenly 
fashion,  which  need  not  at  all  astonish,  all  the  stablemen 
being  either  English  or  Irish  in  a transition  state,  getting  too 
independent  to  work  at  all,  except  for  themselves. 

I have  glanced  at  the  short,  little,  domestic,  easy  railroad 
of  six  miles  to  Germantown,  with  its  serious  conductor,  the 
Major.  Its  station  is  in  Ninth-street ; coming  in  from  the 
country,  along  the  centre  of  the  street,  its  quiet  speed 
slackened  to  a gentle  trot,  ringing  its  bell,  perhaps  a wagon 
or  cart  trotting  along  amicably  beside  it.  This  well-behaved 
town  and  country  engine,  or  horse  and  rail  plan  of  bringing 
the  trains  well  in  towards  a central  station,  holds  good  in 
most  of  the  cities.  There  are  three  other  stations,  one  west- 
ward, along  the  whole  length  of  the  state,  crossing  the  Alle- 
ghany mountains  to  the  Ohio ; another  great  one  to  Balti- 
more ; and  one,  of  some  forty  miles  north,  along  the  banks  of 
the  Schuylkill  by  Norristown,  chiefly  used  as  the  great  coal 
mart.  As,  however,  all  them  snorting  iron  horses  are  not  so 
sure  as  the  Major’s,  the  Ohio  “ cars”  trot  away  with  four  or 
eight  capital  horses,  mules  sometimes,  from  the  very  centre 
of  the  town,  in  High  and  Broad-streets,  crossing  the  Schuyl- 
kill bridge,  and  hooking  on  the  engine  on  the  further  bank. 
In  the  same  way  the  Baltimore  line  is  trotted  from  near  the 
same  point,  in  the  open  street,  and  crosses,  lower  down  to  the 
south-west ; its  course,  by  Wilmington,  Newcastle,  and  across 
the  Susquehanna  in  a steamer.  In  this  way  they  avoid  the 
preposterous  expenses  of  buying  up  whole  streets,  as  in  our 
"South-Western,”  extended  to  the  Waterloo-road.  Even 
the  Americans  stare  at  the  enormous  outlay  of  our  railroads, 
and  it  hangs,  of  course,  like  a millstone  round  our  necks,  no 
matter  how  much  the  traffic  has  increased. 


54 


MUSEUM ; HAPPINESS  ! 

The  famous  old  State-house  did  contain  Peel’s  Museum, 
but  of  late  years  Barnum  finds  all  museums,  and  joins  a 
theatre  to  it.  When  the  play  is  over,  you  walk  about  among 
the  stuffed  specimens,  if  you  are  not  tired  enough  already ; 
and  very  awful  specimens  they  are.  The  expression  given 
exceeds  all  power  of  face,  particularly  if  it  is  meaut  to 
express  serious  dignity.  They  have  made  a rare  example  of 
our  Queen,  who  stands  among  the  Union’s  own  great  men  in 
a glass  ease ; but  I think  a whole  living  band  in  wax  was  the 
most  stunning  thing.  It  was  lucky  that  the  barrels,  or  the 
bellows,  were  on  an  intermittent  plan,  and  had  some  mercy 
on  one’s  ears. 

The  best  things  are  the  Indian  dresses,  weapons,  and  orna- 
ments, always  perfect  in  their  kind,  and  beautiful. 

One  of  the  lions  of  Philadelphia  is  the  Mint.  I am  ashamed 
to  say  I did  not  see  it,  though  very  easy  of  access,  as  all  the 
public  buildings  are  in  America,  very  much  to  their  credit. 
On  the  whole,  Philadelphia  is  a very  rich,  fine,  pleasant  city, 
embracing  almost  every  luxury  known  to  the  rest  of  the 
world.  It  is  healthy,  too,  the  fever  and  ague  being  confined 
to  the  banks  of  its  two  rivers.  Mysterious  as  the  Marema 
of  Tuscany  or  the  Pontine  Marshes — for  it  is  not  exactly 
from  dense  forests,  or  more  or  less  elevation,  or  the  presence 
of  water.  They  say  they  have  less  of  it  than  twenty  years 
ago,  when  most  of  the  villas  and  country  seats  were  shut  up 
and  going  to  ruin.  Still,  here  any  Englishman  may  live  very 
pleasantly  (when  quite  disgusted  with  his  own  government), 
if  he  is  a man  of  fortune,  and  if  he  defies  excessive  heat  and 
excessive  cold,  and  can  laugh  at  mosquitoes.  The  same  thing 
may  be  said  of  almost  any  city  of  the  Union,  except  that  the 
heat  and  the  mosquitoes  keep  getting  more  and  more  awful 
as  he  passes  to  the  southward  beyond  Virginia,  or  westward 
towards  the  Ohio.  True,  there  are  other  things  to  consult 
besides  mere  phjrsical  comforts.  I have  no  letters,  and  will 
not  pretend  to  judge  of  the  best  tone  of  society.  From  what 
I so  far  see,  I should  say  the  Americans  here  care  less  about 
sociability  and  intimate  friendships  than  we  do.  They  rarely 
give  dinners,  but  thes  dansantes  occasionally,  where,  however, 
youth  is  indispensable.  The  married  and  middle-aged  are 
barely  tolerated,  and  toall-Jlowers  must  make  up  their  minds 
good  fifteen  years  before  it  becomes  essential  with  us. 

By  good  iuck,  I am  spared  any  anathemas  against  the 
monster-hotels.  They  abound  here,  as  in  all  their  cities.  As 
barracks  they  are  perfect — much  more  comfortable,  perhaps, 
than  our  Horse  Guards’  at  Kniglitsbridge.  I see  they  have 
nearly  finished  a giant  structure  to  outdo  all  the  others  in 
Chestnut-street,  to  make  up  two  or  three  hundred  beds,  and 
cut  the  Astor  out  if  possible  (for  there  is  an  immense  rivalry 


PIKES — ENGINES  AND  WATER.  55 

between  the  States).  It  is  got  up  by  a company,  and  truly 
it  may  whip  them  all  to  “immortal  smash.” 

The  Fire  and  Hose  Companies  we  are  familiar  with,  and 
the  frequent  fires.  The  State-house  bell,  by  its  numbered 
tolls,  telling  them  in  what  quarter  the  fire  is.  I do  not  recol- 
lect a single  night  without  a fire  ; often  two  or  three.  It  is 
pretty  well  known  not  half  are  by  accident ; and  yet  nobody 
is  accused  or  ever  found  out  by  the  police,  or  by  anybody 
else.  Indeed,  a good  big  fire  is  considered  good  amusement ; 
it’s  good  for  trade,  and  fine  fun  for  the  boys  and  rabble,  who 
help  to  drag  along  the  engines,  led  by  the  engine  captain, 
who  with  liis  trumpet  keeps  koo-hooing  ahead  with  all  his 
lungs.  The  firemen  fight  their  own  ring-clearance  at  the 
fires  ; no  police  ever  helps,  but  they  stand  by  each  other,  and 
are  too  strong  for  the  mob.  They  are  rewarded  in  foro  con- 
scient'uB — citizens  fork  out  according  to  their  consciences. 
To  me,  from  all  I can  hear,  it  is  a puzzle  how  these  young- 
men  like  so  much  trouble  and  fag  (night  and  day),  payless 
and  almost  thankless ! They  build  fine  engine-houses,  too  ; 
the  engines  alone  are  very  expensive.  But  their  pride  is 
touched ; they  are  an  order — fast — military ! — bands,  balls — 
belles  ! — flowers  and  hearts  are  yielded  ! — voila,  le  pourquoi  ? 

Can  one  wonder  the  Americans  sent  us  nothing  but  utili- 
ties in  art.  All  its  taste  and  beauty  here  (except  afloat)  is  at 
a very  low  ebb  indeed.  Pictures,  wretched  daubs.  A poor 
flimsy  portrait-painter  or  two  may  stilt  pick  up  a few  dollars 
in  spite  of  the  daguerreotypes  which  eye  you  with  a grim 
sternness  at  every  window ; but  all  the  fine  arts  are  given  up 
to  foreigners.  French  and  Germans  take  the  lead  in  decora- 
tions, and  all  the  lighter  fashions  and  elegancies. 

No;  one  must  not  look  for  taste  of  a high  order,  or  the 
refined  elegance  in  anything,  equal  to  Europe  ; nor  is  it  at  all 
essential.  It  will  come  fast  enough,  I dare  say,  when  they 
are  less  surfeited  by  the  plethora  of  good  living,  and  when 
they  will  have  to  repine  and  grumble  at  the  corruptions  and 
anomalies  of  a more  refined  state  of  things. 


CHAPTEE  Y. 

SOMETHING  OF  BALTIMORE,  WASHINGTON,  THE  CHESA- 
PEAKE, AND  POTOMAC. 

Preparatory  to  starting,  at  a coach-stand  in  Ninth-street, 
very  near  the  Philadelphia  College,  I had  hard  work  to  strike 
a bargain  with  an  Irish  cabman  to  take  me  to  the  steam-boat, 
as  a favour,  for  half  a dollar,  though  his  legal  fare  was  only  a 
quarter-dollar  to  or  from  any  part  of  the  centre  of  the  city ; 


56 


/ 


STAET  FOR  BALTIMORE. 


but  then  I had  a portmanteau,  and,  like  our  own  clever  cab 
regulations,  luggage,  and  distance,  and  faro  is  left  to  the  dis- 
cretionary disputation  of  both  parties.  All  over  America 
hackney-coaches  and  cabs  are  as  great  a nuisance  as  in  Eng- 
land— impose  on  one  quite  as  much.  But  at  any  rate  they 
are  better-looking  things  than  ours,  and  them  horses  are 
better  used  and  better  fed.  But  here  in  the  States,  where 
there  is  a real  difficulty  in  bringing  the  sovereign  public  to 
any  sort  of  regulation,  there  is  some  excuse,  if  the  wise  muni- 
cipality had  not  added  the  extra  charge  of  twenty-five  cents 
for  every  individual  carried.  Thus,  if  you  can  coax  a fellow 
on  the  stand,  or  at  any  of  the  stations,  where  they  all  rush  as 
ours  do  to  meet  the  steam-boats  and  trains,  to  take  you  a 
mile  for  half  a dollar,  and  your  family  of  three  get  into  the 
hackney-coach  with  you,  the  jarvey  claps  on  an  additional 
quarter  for  each,  and  your  imposing  fare  turns  out  a dollar 
and  a quarter,  or  five  shillings.  Now,  as  the  steamers  and 
railways  on  both  routes  take  one  to  Baltimore  or  New  York 
for  three  dollars,  nearly  a hundred  miles,  it  does  seem  quite 
absurd.  But  we  English  are  perfectly  used  to  the  most  mon- 
strous impositions  and  nuisances  of  every  possible  description, 
entirely  owing  to  our  clever  contrivance  of  the  law  in  such 
matters  carefully  provided ; both  ourselves  and  the  Americans 
disdaining  to  take  a leaf  out  of  the  French  common-sense 
arrangements  in  such  things,  the  chief  part  of  both  our  won- 
derful constitutional  freedoms  consisting  of  the  most  vexa- 
tious confusion  and  contradiction  of  every  single  thing  meant 
for  the  public  good.  On  this  hydra’s  head  a very  thick 
volume  might  be  written  for  the  edification  both  of  the 
mother  country  and  her  young  saucy  giant  offspring.  But  I 
am  in  a hurry,  and  must  say  a word,  before  I get  into  the 
cab,  on  the  general  appearance  of  the  American  girls,  not 
much  altered  since  Mrs.  Trollope’s  days,  nor  Lady  Emeline 
Wortley’s.  In  dress,  at  least,  there  is  a great  deal  of  the 
couleur  de  rose.  They  delight  in  two  things  especially ; the 
brightest,  most  heavenly  colours,  dazzling  white,  ultra-marine, 
crimson,  and  ultra-green.  Violet  and  purple  are  too  quiet, 
but  mammas  may  wear  them.  Thus  all  the  misses  in  their 
“ teens”  (and  after  that  the  deluge !)  are  quite  butterflies. 
They  dress  well,  but  too  fiaringly;  brocades,  satins,  china 
silk  crapes,  and  embroidered  shawls ; in  short,  neither  Paris 
nor  London  can  find  them  anything  too  fine.  The  next 
passion  is  church,  chapel,  and  sermons.  Next  to  dancing 
and  balls,  their  favourite  preacher  (as  with  ourselves  in  town 
now  and  then)  is  the  one  thing  most  talked  about  and  ran 
after.  There  is,  among  other  favourites  just  now,  a Bev. 
Mr.  Wordsworth,  who  draws  all  the  finest  bonnets  to  the 
Arch-street  Chapel.  Such  sermons  as  we  hear  in  England 


PLAN  OF  EIVEE  STEAM  TEATELLING. 


57 


by  our  High  or  Low  Churcb  divines  would  never  do  here, 
tamely  read  from  MSS.  Here  must  be  nothing  less  than  the 
poetry  of  words  and  action,  with  telling  points,  novel  and 
stunning,  declaimed  in  high  tragedy  vein  ; high  pressure, 
but  the  valve  only  gently  loaded,  to  send  them  to  dinner 
screaming  with  excitement  and  curiosity  for  next  Sunday’s 
sensation.  As  to  the  good  looks  of  the  women,  in  youth 
(since  youth  alone  is  beauty),  except  that  they  are  paler  and 
thinner  than  our  girls,  I do  not  see  any  striking  peculiarity. 
Perhaps  in  any  given  number  there  are  as  many  pretty  and 
fine  women  as  in  England.  But,  poor  dears,  their  days  are 
short:  from  then  last  teen  they  may  only  reckon  on  ten 
fleeting  years,  or  perhaps  fifteen,  very  grudgingly  allowed, 
before  they  are  reckoned  as  old  women : and  for  the  most 
part,  I must  say  I think  they  look  it.  But  then,  both  men 
and  women  astonish  one  by  the  number  of  years  they  remain 
old,  looking  little  the  worse  for  wear.  Instances  of  longevity 
are  quite  as  common  as  with  ourselves. 

But  the  steam  is  blowing  off  at  Walnut-street  wharf,  and 
I resolve  to  take  the  Delaware  line  to  Baltimore  by  the  upper 
waters  of  the  Chesapeake.  By  this  route  passengers  have 
very  little  railway  to  cross  over  the  tiny  state  of  Delaware 
(wedged  in  between  the  Jerseys  and  Maryland)  to  the  Elk 
river,  where  another  steamer  takes  them  on  the  rest  of  the 
way,  skirting  the  shores  of  Maryland  and  the  mouth  of  the 
Susquehanna,  which  is  crossed  by  the  other  line  higher  up. 

The  American  river  steamers,  without  exception  (on  the 
sea-board),  are  built  and  arranged  on  one  plan ; that  is,  on 
the  main  deck  a grand  saloon,  with  large  windows  at  the 
sides ; well,  often  elegantly  carpeted  and  furnished ; fre- 
quently with  most  profuse  gilding,  mirrors,  ottomans,  &c. ; 
beneath  the  main  deck  is  the  dining  saloon.  Both  these 
great  cabins  run  half  the  length  of  the  boat,  from  the  stern  to 
the  engines,  whose  fires  and  boilers  are  mostly  one  on  each 
side,  just  behind  the  paddle-boxes,  the  funnels  before  them. 
When  the  distance  to  run  requires  it,  the  grand  saloon  is  sub- 
divided at  the  sides  into  a series  of  small  sleeping  cabins,  the 
after  ones,  like  the  hinder  part  of  the  saloon  itself,  is  ex- 
clusively for  the  ladies  or  married  couples.  In  many  of  the 
boats  bachelors  are  tabooed  at  this  end,  and  may  not  en- 
> croaeh  beyond  where  a curtain  at  the  sides  may  be  drawn 
!;  across,  or  a folding  door’s  partition ; though  it  is  open  at 
all  times,  except,  perhaps,  late  at  night. 

Before  the  engines,  on  the  main  deck,  they  put  the  deck 
I Jargo,  boxes,  barrels,  parcels,  and  the  heavy  baggage  ; some- 
;imes  the  baggage  trucks,  as  I have  said,  are  ready  to  run  out  at 
he  very  terminus  of  some  rail — which  they  cleverly  contrive 
;o  prolong  out  on  jetties  at  the  exact  level  required.  All 


58 


SAD  TYEANNY  OF  THE  FAIK  SEX. 


these  boats  are  very  flat-floored,  and  very  fast — the  speed  a'  ! 
least  fifteen,  miles  an  hour,  often  twenty. 

In  this  way  our  luggage  was  managed  at  Newcastle,  tliirtj 
or  forty  miles  down  the  Delaware,  where  we  were  transferrec 
to  the  short  railway,  across  some  fourteen  miles,  to  the  heat 
waters  of  the  Chesapeake,  on  Elk  river. 

We  all  know  the  excessive  care  taken  of  the  American 
ladies  while  travelling,  but  to-day  I had  a little  spice  of  theii 
sometimes  taking  advantage  of  the  awe-inspired  outer  bar  < 
barians.  As  this  boat  allowed  of  a free  circulation  to  the 
penetralia  or  tabooed  end,  several  of  the  fair  creatures  had 
erected  barricades  by  surrounding  themselves  with  two  and 
three  extra  chairs,  their  feet  on  one,  shawl  on  another,  bonnet 
on  another,  and  some  favoured  beau  in  loud  chatter  on 
another;  in  this  way  it  was  quite  evident  many  of  the  men 
could  not  sit  down  if  they  wished  it,  but  of  this  they  did  not 
deign  to  take  the  slightest  notice.  With  this  hint  I was  not 
at  all  surprised,  when  we  landed,  to  find  myself  warned  ofl 
one  of  the  cars  I was  preparing  to  ascend,  as  exclusively  fori] 
the  ladies  and  their  families  ; which  means  anybody  who  can  1 
scrape  acquaintance  on  the  most  slender  footing  ; nor  is  it  :| 
difficult  to  enter  into  conversation  at  the  ladies’  end,  or 
seventh  heaven  of  steamers ; besides,  it  is  extremely  politic  i 
and  agreeable;  you  sit  at  the  best  (captain’s)  end  of  the  table 
at  meals,  and  you  are  eyed  by  all  the  ruck  of  unhappy  ru- 
minators  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  hi  visible  mysterious  barrier, 
who  sit  or  stand  round  the  stoves,  chewing  their  tobacco-cud 
in  bitter  fancy,  spitting  in  emulation  of  each  other,  and  envy  ■ 
of  the  more  favoured  and  familiar  he  “ critturs”  close  to  ' 
them.  Smoking  is  not  allowed  in  the  grand  saloon;  those  1 
who  wish  to  smoke  go  to  the  barbers  shop,  or  among  the  deck  ; 
passengers  forward,  or  parade  on  the  piazza  like  guards,  1 
outside  the  saloon ; for  such  is  the  great  breadth  of  these 
boats,  that  it  admits  of  a promenade  outside  and  round  the 
saloon  behind. 

All  the  American  steamers  have,  besides  the  captain,  a 
clerk  in  charge,  who  is  the  captain’s  second  self  (often  becoming 
captain),  sits  in  his  office,  takes  your  dollars,  and  gives  you- 
your  passage  and  dinner  tickets.  There  is  always  a rush  and 
crowd  at  this  office,  particularly  if  yon  have  to  sleep  on  board. 
Certainly  the  Americans  delight  in  shoving,  elbowing,  and 
lolling  on  you ; and  the  free-and-easy  positions  of  the  heels 
on  chairs,  tables,  or  mantelpiece,  is  considered  as  a matter 
of  course,  nor  does  the  expectoration  abate  one  jot — on  the 
carpet — anywhere. 

It  was  night  when  we  landed,  and  I saw  nothing  of  the 
town  of  Newcastle,  nor  not  much  of  the  shores  going  down 
the  river — generally  flat  and  monotonous — for  we  went  to 


BALTIMOBE.  HACKNEY  COACHES. 


59 


dinner  almost  immediately — not  a bad  dinner  for  once,  as,  in 
the  boats,  what  there  is  is  put  on  the  table ; and  they  do 
not  seem  in  such  a desperate  hurry  to  leave  the  table ; but  no 
man  must  ever  venture  to  talk  to  anybody  near  him,  unless 
he  has  no  appetite,  nor  even  then,  or  ten  to  one  he’ll  get 
no  answer  : besides,  the  impertinence  of  conversation  to  a 
hungry  mau,  eating  against  time,  as  if  for  a wager  ! 

They  have  run  up  a temporary  frame  station  for  the  rail- 
way at  the  water’s  edge  on  Elk  river,  just  below  French 
Town,  and  here  we  were,  in  the  dark,  once  more  embarked  in 
the  same  kind  of  steamer,  and  got  to  Baltimore  by  ten  o’clock, 
passing  these  low  shores  (Maryland  to  the  right)  and  the 
mouth  of  the  Susquehanna.  This  head  of  the  Chesapeake 
waters  is  full  of  coves  and  inlets,  and  on  one  of  these,  at  the 
western  side,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Patapsco  river,  Baltimore  is 
seated,  round  a very  capacious  natural  harbour,  while  another 
inlet  runs  up  at  the  back  of  the  town,  giving  great  capabilities 
for  the  future  extension  of  its  streets  and  shipping  on  both 
sides.  The  front  harbour  is  crammed  with  clipper  schooners, 
fine  merchant  ships,  and  steamers,  with  every  conceivable 
kind  of  small  craft  (coasters)  mixed  up  with  them  at  the 
wharves. 

I went  to  the  United  States  Hotel  in  Bract-street,  at  the 
water  side,  about  half  a mile  from  where  the  steamers  lie  (all 
vessels  having  their  appointed  wharves,  stations  strictly  en- 
forced, and  very  wisely,  at  all  their  cities),  the  streets 
wretchedly  paved,  half  mud  and  ruts,  and  as  usual  the  great 
hotel,  although  not  so  awfully  big  as  Barnum’s,  up  another 
street,  yet  I guess  quite  as  uncomfortable.  I asked  for  the 
Indian  Queen,  which  was  once  the  best  hotel  in  Baltimore, 
but  found  it  had.  sunk  beneath  all  the  feeding  barracks  going 
— Barnum’s  (unkindest  cut  of  all !)  having,  I believe,  broke 
its  “ Bos’s  ” heart ! Still,  I was  toid  they  held  on  to  a " con- 
siderable few  ” who  preferred  elbow  room.  Plenty  of  ugly 
hack-coaches  and  poor  horses  were  flying  and  plying  about, 
but  I knew  my  customers,  and  walked  on  stoutly.  An  un- 
happy Briton,  wife,  and  lady’s  maid,  fell  into  the  snare — that 
is,  got  into  one  of  these  traps  ; the  fare  demanded  astonished 
the  victim,  albeit  an  old  stager.  I had  just  put  my  name 
down,  and  was  standing  at  the  office  counter  of  the  ante- 
chamber, crowded  with  trunks,  sitters,  and  spitters,  when  the 
clerk  (nobody  ever  sees  a landlord)  was  appealed  to,  versus 
a demand  for  a dollar  and  a half  for  the  half  mile. 

“ Well,  sir — I don’t  know — I guess  you’ll  have  to  pay 
it ; he  can  demand  half  a dollar  for  each  sitter  inside.” 

Victim. — “ What ! a dollar  and  a half  for  five  hundred 
yards  !” 

Cleric. — “ Well,  yes,  I guess ; just  so.” 


MONUMENTS.  PAPAL  DISCIPLINE. 


GO 

f Sometimes  these  hotels  have  a sort  of  omnibuses  to  mee  j 
the  steam-boats  and  rail : touters  push  you  in,  and  you  fhn  1 

^ in  your  bill  half  a dollar  for  the  ride  for  yourself  and  carpet  ] 
bag,  or  small  portmanteau — all  right,  good  for  trade. 

Baltimore  has  grown  less  rapidly  than  her  more  northern  i 
sisters  these  last  twenty  or  thirty  years,  no  doubt  it  ha: 
spread  much  over  its  hills,  but  its  population,  though  greatly 
increased,  is  still  very  much  less  than  even  more  recently 
built  cities  ; not  much  exceeding  a hundred  thousand. 

It  is  the  most  Catholic  city  in  the  Union ; I believe  it  is 
the  prevailing  religion  ; there  is  a large  cathedral,  and  many 
other  churches  of  the  Homan  faith.  This  sounds  odd  in  the 
United  States,  where  all  the  world  are  Dissenters  of  a 
thousand  shades ; but  the  Homan  Catholics  are  gaining 
ground  at  railroad  pace  ; hundreds  of  thousands  have  swelled 
their  congregations  of  late  years  from  Ireland.  The  firmest 
Catholics  in  the  world,  to  a man,  and  the  strict  discipline  of 
their  Church  gives  them  even  now  in  all  them  cities,  greater 
weight  as  a body  than  any  other  persuasion  can  reckon  on  ; 
it  begins  to  be  felt  north  and  south,  and  will  have  much  to  do  i 
with  the  future  destinies  of  this  country. 

They  should  have  called  it  the  “ Catholic  ” city,  and  said 
nothing  about  its  nkinuments,  which  are  two  in  number,  and 
no  great  'things.  The  Doric  column  to  Washington,  in  1 
Charles-street,  with  his  colossal  statue  on  high,  is  better  I 
indeed  than  our  Duke  of  York’s — rather;  but  one  sees  ! 
nothing  of  the  general  but  his  Homan  toga,  which  does  not  J 
sit  Well,  and  puts  one  in  mind  of  nobody.  This  humble  I 
imitation  of  Constantine's  pillar , and  old  Home  is  surely  a 
mistake ; the  Drench  set  us  both  a better,  a'  sterner  example, 
in  the  greater  truth  in  the  Place  Yendome,  and  in  their.  I 
better  taste  and  superior  art, ' since  the  world  will  copy  ' 
columns.  The  other  monument  is  a miserably  poor  affair  1 
indeed,  in  art  and  in  taste,  to  some  officers  who  fell  in  the  H 
late  war. 

Still  there  are  many  fine  buildings  and  excellent  houses  in 
the  upper  parts  of  the  town,  the  brickwork  remarkably  good,  1 
and  a great  profusion  of  white  marble  steps  and  polished 
brass  about  their  doors.  In  magnitude,  however,  I fancy  1 
Barnum’s  hotel  is  the  greatest  thing  to  be  seen.  Market  or 
High-street  has  all  the  busy  features  of  such  active  spirits, 
and  the-shops,  though  not  equal  to  the  greater  cities  north,  i, 
still  make  a very  handsome  show. 

Here  one  sees  the  beginning  of  that  hateful  thing  slavery ; 
carrying  with  it  its  usual  accompaniment  of  dirt,  idleness, 
and  carelessness  ; no  slave,  however,  ever  slaves  at  all ; not 
half  so  much  as  the  free  negroes — for  instance,  in  Philadelphia 
and  New  York;  but  one  may  be  certain  it  is  the  one  great 


NEGBO-SLAVES — AND  FEEE. 


61 


cause  of  the  marked  greater  neglect  and  slovenliness  of  every- 
thing in  the  south  of  the  Union,  beginning  here.  From  what 
I have  ever  seen  I cannot  conceive  a grater  curse  to  a man  than 
the  possession  of  a slave.  They  are  the  real  bottle-imps  of  the 
planters  ; too  happy  if  they  could  keep  them  in  a bottle,  or 
part  with  them  for  the  smallest  coin,  if  they  could  afford  it ; 
such  is  their  innate  laziness,  carelessness,  forgetfulness,  dirti- 
ness, and  thoughtlessness.  They  very  often  put  me  in  mind 
of  great  baboons — they  are  quite  as  mischievous  too — cruel 
to  everything  they  can  master,  or  have  any  kind  of  command 
over.  I trace  it  in  everything — the  horse  they  drive — the  dog 
they  feed. 

Of  course  there  may  be  some  few  exceptions ; but,  indeed, 
whenever  and  wherever  they  can  do  as  they  like,  “ they  act 
such  tricks  as  make  the  angels  weep!”  Our  own  ruined 
.West  Indies,  and  the  total  ruin  of  St.  Domingo,  in  vain  read 
us  a lesson : but  let  any  man  travel  south  in  the  States — let 
him  search  for  an  “ Uncle  Tom,”  or  his  cabin  either — he  will 
.find  a comical,  often  a disgusting,  reality,  rather  stronger  than 
Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe’s  fiction. 

To  explain  this  would  lead  me  too  far;  but  what  may 
strike  our  obtuse,  fiction-loving  senses  more  clearly,  is  the 
great  fact  that  the  negro  race,  slaves  or  free,  are  the  happiest 
beings  in  existence;  just  as  it  holds  good  that  the  greatest 
fools  in  the  world  are  the  happiest  of  men ; but  the  slaves 
of  America,  even  when  under  a severe  master,  are  better 
fed,  better  clothed,  have  more  animal  enjoyment  than  our 
own  poor  in  England ; nor  are  they  made  to  work  half  so 
hard  in  the  south  as  slaves,  as  they  are  obliged  to  in  the 
north  as  free  coloured  people. 

To  observe  them  (free  from  their  vexation)  they  are  funny, 
droll  creatures.  In  Philadelphia,  which  is  their  stronghold 
as  citizens,  and  where  they  have  their  most  respectable 
standing,  is  quite  as  good  as  a farce,  on  all  occasions ; so 
little  has  common  sense  to  do  with  their  love  of  finery  and 
aping  the  manners,  and  expressions,  and  forms  of  the  wliite 
world,  high  and  low.  Their  love  of  finery  is  egregious  : the 
■ black  belles  go  to  their  “ first-rate  ” balls  dressed  in  muslins,’ 
gold  lace  bands,  roses,  lilies  ; ribbon-trimmed  long  kids,  white 
as  “ dribbin  snow,”  and  white  silk  ’tockin  dragged  over  the 
heel  of  their  tremendous  ugly  flat  feet  (forming  a straight 
line  upwards),  and  white  satin  shoes — when  they  can  get  them 
big  enough ; their  wool  (in  leads  all  the  week  before)  now 
combed  out,  swells  to  the  size  of  a bushel ; their  beaux,  in 
white  cravats  and  trousers  (“  ebery  ting  muss  be  white,  and 
first-rate  ”)  look  quite  as  outre  and  absurd.  Our  street  negro 
melodists  are  hardly  a caricature  of  these  happy  creatures  ; 
but  their  ceremonious  affectation  and  talk  is  killing.  Let  us 


62 


COLOTJBED  FASHIONABLES. 


suppose  two  negroes  (“  coloured  gentlemen”)  meeting  in  om 
of  the  Quaker  city  streets  ; dirtily  dressed  as  labourers,  a fev 
patches,  aud  even  rags  : but  pretty  well  off ; one,  perhaps 
owning  a cart  and  half-fed  horse ; the  other,  a sawyer  oj 
porter ; both  independent  citizens,  and  gaining  a living  at 
occasional  jobs. 

They  meet  on  the  full  grin,  showing  their  white  teeth,  and 
rolling  their  eyes  about,  they  come  to  a full  stop  in  face 
of  each  other,  and  burst  out  in  a loud  laugh  before  a word  is 
said,  each  swaying  about,  and  holding  his  sides. 

Mr.  Jefferson  S.  Skunk. — Bress  my  heart — don’t — dat  you, 
Massa  ’Gustus  Quashy?  Well!  my!  any  how — yah!  yah! 
he,  he,  he ! 

Mr.  Augustus  Q.  Quashy. — Well,  I nebber  seed  de  like ! 
Yah,  yah,  yah!  ( They  both  set  to  at  another  spell  at 
laughing .) 

Skunk  (holding  himself  up). — Well,  do  tell  I Where  away 
now,  dis  time  ? You  am  after  dat  ere  job  of  de  old  man’s,  - 
way  up  dere  at  de  depots  P 

Quashy. — If  dat  don’t  beat  Lady  Suffolk  ! (A  fast  horse.) 
Where  you  get  to — say — last  night  arter  de  fust  quadrille  ? 

I seed  you  a startin’  arter  Miss  Hetty — no  ? Yah,  yah ! He, 
he,  he ! ( Mere  they  both  go  off  in  fresh  raptures .) 

Skunk. — Say  ! for  true,  you  seed  me?  Well,  you  seed  dat 
ere  fine  young  lady  P Mighty  likely  gal  dat,  I guess — no, 
Look  here — you  no  call,  mind,  to  say  nutting  ’bout  dat  ere 
gal  to  de  old  woman.  (Both  go  off  again  louder  th  an  ever.) 

Quashy  (drawing  a deep  sigh  to  recover). — Wheugh!— 
who?  me ! Hebber  let  on,  ’pon  my  word  ob  honour.  Well, 
anyhow,  you  am  got  de  ticket.  Well,  my  mind  misguv  me  i 
all  de  same,  I tell  you — tink  ob  dat!  You  is  ’quainted  wid 
Missy  Lillycum — same  young  lady  as  lib  wid  de  famimly  of 
Massa  Hiram  J ob — he  as  am  member  fum  Congress  ? 

Skunk. — Do  tell!  well,  I is  lieerd  as  much.  (Makes faces.) 
But  look  here,  I’se  but  middling  ’trong  dis  morning;  my  1 
’turnmac  complain  considerumble,  I tell  you — dis  way,  look 
here.  I not  mush  up  to  de  fine  new  step  of  de  Schotish,  least  : 
ways,  de  deuks  temps,  but  can  go  it  some  at  de  polka,  say,  " 
Somehow  I corned  slick  down  and  ’train  nry  lefF  shin.  (They 
both  look  concerned  at  the  left  leg.)  It  aint  nutting  much  to 
magnify.  How  is  you  good  lady,  Missy  Quash,  dis  mornin’  ? 
Seem  to  me  I tink  she  fling  out  in  de  polkum  most  de  finest 
I’se  ebber  see  in  my  born  days.  Hope  not  cachit  no  cold  P 
not  sneeze  none  ? 

Quashy. — Well,  tank  you  mightily,  she  am  first-rate.  I 
don’t  know  she  am  powerful  mad  dis  mornin’,  I tell  you. 
Look  here,  you  ain’t  seed  nuJfin  ob  she  lilywhite  supumfine 
glub,  what  she  drop,  somehow,  afore  Massa  Assa  Cully  hand 


HAPPY  LAZY  LIVES  OF  NEGROES. 


63 


’em  down  to  ’freshment?  Dcm  glubs  coss  dollar  and  twenty- 
five  cent  piece — lookliere — ebery  cent  bard  cash,  I tell  you. 

Skunk. — Do  tell,  my ! Well,  I guess  I nebber  seed  nulling, 
case  wby,  more  ’tickler,  seem  to  me  I bad  to  look  arter  my 
partner ; sbe  go  it  so  migbty  bard,  sbe  take  all  de  wind  out 
ib  me — be,  lie,  be!  Look  here,  Jeff’son,  arter  we  corned 
iway  along,  was  considerumble  bodder’d  wid  de  old  woman  ; 
and  worse  nor  dat,  Miss  Maltilda  loose  ’em  shoe  right  in  de 
mud ; and  agin,  was  moss  gettin’  in  a mus  wid  a big  nigger 
wbat  persiss  to  offer  bim  arm,  and  cuss  me  in  heaps,  case  make 
perlite  remark  as  not  ’greeable  to  de  young  lady. 

Quashy. — I nebber  heerd  de  like.  I know  dat  nigger,  be 
am  on  de  fish-wharf,  and  de  Diggers  ; and  more,  am  vulgar  as 
- cat-fish.  Well,  anyhow,  must  make  tracks  ; got  to  haul  dem 
’ere  bricks.  Good  morning,  sa.  Maybe,  see  you  dis  ebenin’ 
at  Change  down  dere  ? 

Skunk. — Good  mornin’,  sa.  Well,  I don’t  know,  I spect 
to  look  down,  anyhow.  Give  my ’specs  to  de  family.  ( They 
fart,  touching  their  hats  and  chuckling — “ tickled  by  a 
straw.”) 

I should  explain,  that  among  the  coloured  race  of  America, 
whether  free  negroes  north,  or  slaves  in  the  south,  the  word 

nigger”  with  them  means  a bad,  low  fellow,  and  has  nothing 
to  do  with  any  shade  of  colour.  A very  black  fellow  will 
call  a very  light  mulatto  a “ nigger”  if  they  fall  out ; who  will 
perhaps  answer,  “Ho  more  nigger  nor  you.”  Among  them- 
selves, their  masters  and  mistresses  are  but  “ white  niggers.” 
It  ingeniously  gets  rid  of  the  ugly  word.  When  in  Phila- 
delphia, many  years  ago,  they  appeared  to  me  more  numerous 
than  at  present,  better  looking  and  better  dressed  at  all  times 
— less  apparent  poverty.  What  the  facts  are  I know  not.  It 
is,  however,  their  nature  to  be  extremely  improvident,  no 
matter  where,  or  how  many  generations  they  may  have  been 
free.  At  the  same  time,  however  dirty  or  slovenly  they  go 
about  on  week  days,  on  Sundays,  and  high  days  and  holidays, 
they  dress  up  in  the  most  outre  fashion  of  the  day.  At  their 
society  meetings,  the  Washington,  Freemasons’,  &c.,  they 
■muster  in  great  ceremony  and  force.  I have  seen  them  two 
and  two,  full  dress,  with  wands,  ribbons,  rosettes,  scarfs,  form 
processions  of  ten  or  twelve  thousand  on  the  pavements  of 
Philadelphia.  Their  numbers  (all  grown  men)  I cannot  speak 
to  exactly,  but  I recollect  they  seemed  interminable  up  and 
down  the  principal  streets.  This  was  the  grand  Washington 
festival. 

Besides  their  balls  and  “ society”  meetings,  they  have 
their  chapels  and  “coloured”  preachers,  whose  discourses  are 
as  funny  very  often  (particularly  the  Methodists,  the  most 
numerous  sect,)  as  “ digger  Sambo’s  sermon”  on  the  origin 


64 


FACE  OF  THE  COUNTRY. 


“ ob  cle  fuss  white  man  as  come  on  cle  face  oh  clis  circumlaa 
globe.”  One  thing  is  most  certain,  they  are  the  most 
laughing  race  on  earth — the  happiest,  particularly  the  slaves 
■ — for  they  have  no  cares  whatever  beyond  the  instant — nc 
thought,  and  not  an  idea ; and  it  is  well  it  shoidd  be  so.  The 
awkward,  and  the  worst  part  of  this  much-vexed  question, 
pertains  to  the  Anglo-American  race ! The  attempt  to  mix  is 
vain — almost  unnatural.  Pity  they  were  ever  brought  here— 
true,  true — a great  pity;  but  the  fault  lies  with  none  living, 
And  mark  the  glaring  inconsistency  of  our  days  on  the  African 
coast — we  tax  ourselves  to  do  a most  outrageous  wrong ! The 
chiefs  who  conquer  in  their  eternal  petty  wars,  if  not  able  to 
sell  them  on  the  coast  (to  save  their  lives  !)  kill  them  on  the 
spot ! and  our  officers  and  men,  who  are  yearly  decimated  by 
the  coast  fever,  have  even  been  sent  on  shore  to  fight  and  kill  | 
the  conquerors — to  prevent  their  selling  their  captives  ! 
Surely  the  universal  madness  and  confusion  of  ideas  of  this  | 
whole  world  is  not  at  all  exceeded  by  what  one  may  see  any 
morning  on  the  other  side  of  Westminster-bridge — in  Bedlam. 
We  all  know  that  Baltimore,  like  almost  all  the  chief  United 
States’  cities,  is  not  the  capital  of  the  state,  but  a much  smaller 
town,  Anapolis,  once  a fashionable  place,  about  forty  miles 
lower  down  the  Chesapeake — whichnobody  overhears  anything 
about — where  of  late  they  have  established  a naval  school, 
after  the  fashion  of  ours  at  Portsmouth.  It  is  presided  over 
by  a commander,  with  a lieutenant  under  him. 

The  face  of  this  whole  country,  after  passing  the  Susque-  f 
hanna,  is  flat,  sandy,  and  poor.  The  forests  on  the  sea-board 
are  more  frequent — there  is  more  wildness  in  the  scene ; the 
planters’  or  farmers’  houses  stand  further  from  each  other ; 
their  fields,  chiefly  of  Indian  corn,  have  the  appearance  of 
being  worn  out ; each  succeeding  year  makes  manure  the ' 
more  essential,  for  rotation  crops,  and  even  rest,  begin  to  lose  i 
their  effect.  Thence  the  growing  anxiety  about  guano,  and 
the  great  stir  lately  in  the  mercantile  shipping  world 
towards  Lobos  and  Peru.  But  their  farming  is  much  inferior 
to  that  of  the  more  northern  states.  Carelessness  and  waste 
mark  the  track  of  slave  labour ; indeed,  universal  indolence, 
besets  the  land,  master,  and  slave.  Anywhere  out  of  their 
towns  it  is  the  first  thing  that  strikes  one. 

It  equally  applies  to  Virginia,  across  the  Potomac.  Thirty 
years  ago  her  Indian  corn-fields  scarcely  did  more  than  feed 
her  cattle  and  her  slaves  ;*  the  only  source  of  profit  was  her 
tobacco,  which  still  requires  rich,  new  lands.  To  be  sure, 

* This  most  sweet  and  nourishing  of  grains  is  so  good  for  man  and 
heast,  and  so  loved  by  the  negroes,  that  once,  when  the  crop  failed,  and 
they  were  forced  to  feed  them  on  wheaten  bread,  an  insurrection  of  the 
slaves  was  threatened. 


LEAVE  BALTIMORE. 


65 


Virginia  lias  still  thousands  of  square  miles  of  virgin  forest 
and  beautifully  variegated  country  towards  the  Ohio — noble 
rivers,  valleys,  and  mountains,  rich  in  luxuriant  vegetation, 
and  valuable  woods  and  ores,  as  yet  almost  unknown  to  their 
owners,  (some  of  it  occasionally  appearing  in  the  London 
market  for  sale  at  a dollar  the  acre !)  Why  she  attracts  so 
few  of  our  emigrants  I cannot  understand.  She  is,  indeed, 
less  talked  about,  and  does  not  go  so  fast  ahead ; has  little  or 
no  shipping  of  her  own,  Baltimore  doing  most  of  her  coasting 
trade  up  the  James  River  to  Richmond,  and  up  her  grand 
inlets,  the  Rapahanoc,  the  Bock,  and  Potomac  rivers ; but 
of  this,  the  largest,  and  naturally  the  very  finest  of  the  early 
settled  states,  it  will  be  worth  saying  more  hereafter. 

Itake  the  railway  on  to  Washington — a flat,  wild,  sandy,  poor 
country;  as  elsewhere,  we  started  from  the  station  in  Pratt- 
street,  with  four  horses  along  the  streets  to  the  suburb,  on  a 
gentle  rise,  where  the  engine  was  put  to.  The  citizens  all 
grumble  at  the  badness  of  this  railroad  of  forty  miles,  and  its 
comparative  dearness  of  fare.  Half-way  we  were  brought  to 
a stand-still  by  the  sinking  of  the  rails  ; navvies  were  mend- 
ing the  spot.  A funny,  withered  mummy  of  an  old  fellow, 
who  had  been  hard  at  an  argument  with  his  wife,  in  the  next 
arm-chair  behind  me,  from  the  moment  we  took  our  places, 
left  off  to  address  himself  to  the  “brakesman”  (breaksman), 
who  had  come  in  to  put  the  stove  fire  to  rights. 

■“  I guess  I’d  fine  you  all  five  hundred  dollars  for  this 
here !” 

“ Would  you,  though  ?”  was  the  reply.  “ What’s  it  to  me  ! 
I’m  paid,  move  on  or  not.  Wliat’s  the  odds  ! I don’t  care,  I 
don’t,  if  we  don’t  stir  out  o’  this  till  July.” 

At  this  retort  my  citizen  looked  excessively  grim ; pre- 
sently we  moved  on,  slowly  enough,  giving  all  the  passengers 
a good  opportunity  of  looking  at  the  only  carefully -fenced 
farm  we  saw  the  whole  way,  which  served  as  a vent  for  the 
pent-up  wrath  of  the  grumpy  citizen. 

He  now  declared  aloud,  that  “He’d  hang  that  ’ere  colonel 
for  a swindling  scamp  and  copper-bottomed  rascal ! — he’d 
learn  him  to  build  fine  houses  and  factories,  and  put  up  board 
and  wire  fences  out  of  his  ’tarnal  kites  and  shin  plasters,  and 
then  back  out,  and  cheat  the  universal  world !” 

“ You  are  so  awful  hard  on  him,  my  dear,”  said  the  wife ; 
“perhaps  he  couldn’t  help  it.” 

“ Perhaps ! — perhaps,  wouldn’t  I hang  him  like  a dog ! — 
yes,  slick  away !” 

It  was  evident  she  couldn’t  soften  her  better  half ; but 
no  wonder — it  turned  out  that  he  had  started  without  his 
breakfast. 

This  railroad  has  been  easily  made,  but  is  very  hard  to  keep 

"s’ 


06 


BAD  RAILROAD. 


in  repair — owing  to  the  loose  sandiness  of  the  country,  neither 
embankments  nor  cuttings  will  keep  up.  Leaving  Bladens- 
burg  to  the  left,  and  passing  through  the  gently  rising  semi- 
circle of  hills  which  forms  the  eastern  frame  of  the  “ Colum- 
bian” district,  we  came  into  the  “ depot”  (station)  on  the 
higher  portion  of  the  city  of  "Washington,  not  far  from  the 
Capitol,  the  body  of  the  place  below  us,  now  a large  town  of 
40,000  souls.  .From  any  part  of  this  elevation,  looking  to 
the  north  and  west,  one  sees  the  whole  town  and  country  at  a 
glance.  The  city,  along  the  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  is  built 
more  or  less  scattered  all  the  way — Georgetown  in  the  i 
extreme  distance,  which  it  joins ; the  White  House,  and  all 
the  government  offices  being  between  the  two,  at  the  extreme 
north  end  of  the  Avenue,  where  it  bends  a little  up  and  down  i 
a hill,  and  runs  over  a bridge  into  the  older  settlement  of  the 
two.  Georgetown  is  in  itself  a large  town,  and  existed  when 
Washington  had  not  a street  laid  out. 

On  the  left,  to  the  west,  is  the  silvery  shining  Potomac 
(though  a muddy  tide  river),  with  its  bridge  of  a mile  long  . 
over  it  to  the  Virginia  shore  opposite,  still  looking  as  wild  in 
its  virgin  forests  as  when  the  poor  Bed  Indians  iived  undis- 
turbed by  their  very  virtuous,  philanthropic  English  white 
brothers  ! Over  this  vast  expanse,  far  as  the  eye  can  reach, 
one  secs  nothing  but  woods ; on  the  shore,  lost  in  the  foliage, 
a speck,  one  may  indeed  detect  a house,  a seat,  or  a log  hut 
here  and  there ; while,  on  the  river,  the  white  sails  of  the  ; 
schooner  and  sloop  coasters,  the  passage  steamer  to  Baltimore, 
aud  the  little  one  to  Alexandria,  six  miles  below,  give  some 
life  to  the  water  at  least. 

As  one  is  for  ever  misled  by  asking  for  the  “ best  hotel,”  and 
as  there  was  a good  half  mile  of  muddy  road  before  me,  | 
“where  to  choose  my  place  of  rest,  and  Providence  my 
guide,”  I stai’ted  off  down  hill,  edging  off  along  cross-roads 
and  chalked-out  streets,  up  and  down  various  cuttings,  pre- 
paratory, till  I got  pretty  well  down,  and  into  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue,  which  is  the  Begent-street — nay,  the  one  u 
all-in-all  street  of  the  place,  on  which  the  great  treble-domed 
Capitol  smiles  placidly  from  its  hill  and  gardens.  •] 

Gadsby’s  Hotel  did  not  seem  too  monstrous,  so  I mounted 
up  many  steps,  and  entered.  I found  it  much  more  quiet  and 
comfortable  than  any  I had  yet  tried.  The  National  Hotel,  | 
lower  down  the  Avenue,  is  much  larger ; and  they  are  build- 
ing an  immense  thing,  to  outfeed  and  outsleep  all  the  rest,  a 
little  further  on.  I am  now  lodged  at  the  corner  of  “ Three-  i 
and-a-half-street”  and  the  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  with  the 
Capitol  very  handy  on  the  hill,  looking  as  if  its  garden  at  the 
foot  of  it  terminated  the  Avenue,  to  the  south ; it  is,  however, 
but  half-way,  and  this  columned  facade  of  it  is  but  its  back 


AT  AVASHINGTON. 


67 


front,  the  chief  front  ancl  portico  being  on  the  upper  side ; 
and  looking  down  the  other  half  of  this  grand  central  avenue 
to  the  Pontiac  Hiver,  or  estuary,  at  a point  two  or  three  miles 
off  below,  where  it  branches  from  the  Potomac,  and  where  the 
navy -yard  is  established,  and  the  arsenal,  but  not  a house  is 
there  beyond  the  close  precincts  of  the  Capitol  gardens ; two 
or  three  blocks  and  rows  of  good-sized  town  houses  stand  to 
the  west,  just  outside  the  garden  rails,  on  the  platform  above, 
on  a level  "with  the  Capitol,  and  some  few  isolated  houses  on 
the  ehalked-out  lots  on  the  higher  ground  are  all  that  is 
visible  in  that  direction.  The  great  body  of  the  town  yet 
built,  lies  along  on  the  east  side  of  the  Pennsylvania  Avenue, 
with  comparatively  very  few  houses,  indeed,  as  yet  built  on 
the  avenues  and  cross-streets  westward,  towards  the  river 
(distant  about  a mile,  perhaps  more).  Hor,  indeed,  is  the 
west  side  of  this  one  great  leading  street  more  than  partially 
built  on.  There  are  still  plenty  of  frontages  and  lots  left  to 
specidate  on,  and  still  leave  the  view  to  the  river  and  the 
Virginia  woods  unobstructed  from  the  hotel  and  shop  side  of 
the  way. 

The  day  was  fine,  and  here  all  the  Washington  world  are 
seen.  Half-way  down  stands  the  market.  I walked  on 
amidst  an  immense  crowd  of  lank-looking,  home-spun  farmers 
and  their  wagons,  mostly  drawn  by  oxen  in  spans  of  two  and 
four.  Some  with  horses,  of  good  shape,  but  excessively  lean 
and  rough,  as  if  a currycomb  and  wisp  of  hay  or  straw  had 
never  smoothed  them  down  since  colts — indeed,  their  masters 
seemed  equally  rough.  The  majority  of  this  crowd  of  teams 
were  driven  by  darkies,  who  punched  and  knocked  their 
cattle  about  without  much  ceremony.  I am  now  fairly  in  the 
land  of  niggers — none  but  slaves  ever  do  the  least  thing ; not 
enough,  even,  of  walking  for  their  health’s  sake  ! Ho  planter 
ever  stirs  off  his  horse ; the  whole  Avenue  was  alive  with  om- 
nibuses running  to  the  White  House  and  Treasury,  and 
further  on  to  Georgetown,  at  the  universal  fare  of  six  cents 
delivered  before  you  get  out,  through  the  round  hole  con- 
trived in  the  roof,  the  driver  giving  you  your  change  out  of 
his  cash-box  as  he  relaxes  his  strap,  which  keeps  the  door 
fast  shut,  to  prevent  any  “ tricks  upon  travellers,”  or  over- 
hasty  exits,  without  taking  leave. 

I should  like  to  give  a clear  idea  of  this  fiat,  bare  tract  of 
land  on  the  river-side,  a parallelogram  of  four  or  five  miles 
along  the  Potomac,  and  perhaps  three  miles  wide,  from  the 
river  to  the  wooded  and  rather  prettily-shaped  hills  framing  it 
round  to  the  east,  and  closing  in  with  increased  altitude  and 
abrupt  wildness  above  Georgetown,  where  the  tide  ceasing, 
the  Potomac  becomes  a most  beautiful,  savage,  romantic,  pic- 
turesque river ; while  opposite  the  city,  towards  the  river,  all 


68 


smithson’s  legacy. 


is  flat  and  monotonous,  without  a tree,  and  fenced  off  in 
hundreds  of  lots  (for  sale),  and  most  excessively  deep-rutted 
roads,  avenues,  and  embryo  streets  ; there  is,  indeed,  a small 
row  or  two  of  houses  near  the  water-side,  just  above  the 
landing-place  of  the  steamers,  and  a few  grog-shops,  timber 
and  coal-sheds,  along  the  few  straggling  plank  wharves  there- 
abouts, in  a miserable  state  of  decay  or  unfinish.  The  half 
dozen  ’buses  and  hackney-coaches  which  drive  down  to  meet  - 
the  boats,  descend  from  the  streets  (of  posts  and  rails),  . 
through  gaps  and  gullies  in  the  muddy  bank,  at  a pitch  of 
forty-flve,  or  half  the  perpendicular  facade.  The  even  eleva- 
tion of  the  land  at  the  water’s  edge,  from  Arsenal  Point  up  to 
the  President’s  house,  being  about  forty  feet  above  the  water 
— an  abrupt  earthy  chff — down  they  go,  and  flounder  about 
in  rival  ruts  and  mud  below ; and  very  often  have  their  drive 
only  for  their  pains,  or  they  may  carry  off  a prize  in  the  shape 
of  one  gent  and  his  carpet-bag,  just  landed  from  Alexandria 
or  Baltimore,  as  the  greater  part  of  the  arrivals  by  water 
(few  at  any  time)  very  sensibly  prefer  walking  into  town,  . 
unless  there  are  ladies  or  luggage,  when,  I dare  say,  they 
make  up  for  their  empty  trips  ; for  here,  as  in  every  other 
city,  the  scale  of  fares  is  just  simple  and  clear  enough  to  make 
it  impossible  not  to  be  imposed  upon.  From  this  point  I 
regained  my  hotel  once  or  twice  by  a little  detour  across  the 
grounds  lying  out  round  the  Smithsonian  Institute,  an 
excessively  elaborate  building  of  small  round  and  square 
towers  and  infinite  angles,  built  of  a kind  of  red  freestone ; as 
yet  it  is  quite  in  the  fields,  and  just  beyond  it,  nearer  the 
water,  is  rising  in  granite  what  will  be  as  ugly  an  obelisk 
or  square  tapering  tower  of  tremendous  height  as  can,  I 
should  think,  well  be  conceived,  to  the  memory  of  Washing- 
ton. This  monument  as  yet  lias' only  got  upwards  about  sixty 
feet.  O Mr.  President,  O Mr.  Secretary,  pause ! Have  you 
not  the  fear  of  the  Bostonian  Bunker’s  Hill  200  feet  high 
mile-stone  before  your  eyes  ? But  this  one  is  to  beat  that  one.  : 
Be  it  so. 

How  I am  passing  this  Smithsonian  ugly  affair,  for  the  dis- 
semination of  knowledge,  moral  and  physical — one  word  on  • 
the  strange  freak  which  could  induce  my  old  friend,  dying,  > 
to  send  half  a million  of  dollars  to  America,  instead  of 
devoting  it  to  something  useful  for  the  benefit  of  his  own 
land ! 

“ Die,  and  endow  a college — or  a cat !” 

From  whence  come  all  riches  ? the  land.  It  is  easy  to  trace 
gold  back  to  the  garden  and  the  fields,  the  woods,  the  rivers, 
and  the  open  sea — Australias  and  Californias  are  but  hideous 
excrescences ; but  this  gold  came  from  England’s  soil — ’twas 


GEOBGETOWN., 


69 


not  kind,  not  well,  to  throw  it  here — where  even  the  recipients 
are  grumbling  at  the  way  it  is  frittered  away,  without  taste, 
■without  that  broad  utility  it  might  have  insured.  They  say 
there  is  no  one  room  half  the  size  necessary;  much  such 
another  thing  in  small,  as  our  gingerbread,  jackstraw’s, 
pinnacled  weather-cock  tin-roofed  frippery  thing  in  West- 
minster ! I do  not,  indeed,  hear  that  they  have  got  a kindred 
Dr.  Reid  to  blow  hot  and  cold,  to  run  away  with  an  extra 
half  million ; but  they  are  yet  young  iu  reckless  extravagance, 
folly,  and  blunders,  and  will  improve,  I dare  say.  It  seems 
Mr.  Rush  got  this  precious  legacy  out  of  Chancery. 

The  omnibuses  are  very  convenient — they  save  one’s  legs  to 
Georgetown  (three  or  four  miles),  and  I see  the  outsides  of 
the  Treasury  and  Government  offices,  and  the  White  House — 
both  very  handsome  buildings,  to  the  left  as  we  rode  along, 
on  a gentle  rise  here,  shaded  by  some  fine  trees  and  their 
grounds,  reaching  to  the  river,  laid  out  more  tastily,  after  the 
manner  of  our  approaches  and  lawns,  than  anything  I have 
seen  elsewhere.  Before  the  President’s  house,  which  stands 
pretty  near  the  road,  there  is  a bronze  statue  of  Jefferson, 
good  enough  not  to  be  laughed  at  quite  so  much  as  our  own 
bronze  perpetrations.  This  was  the  gift  of  a naval  officer, 
Captain  Levi,  lately.  How  we  should  stare  at  a bronze  statue 
before  Buckingham  Palace,  the  gift  to  the  Queen  of  an  English 
post-captain ! 

At  Georgetown  we  were  fairly  among  the  hills,  and  I got 
out  half-way  up  the  chief  street,  where  the  ’buses  stop,  and 
walked  on  upwards,  and  down  the  further  side  to  where  the 
great  canal  crosses  the  river  on  its  aqueduct  to  the  Virginia 
side  (ending,  I think,  at  Alexandria,  a branch  coming  on  into 
Washington,  parallel  to  the  Pennsylvania  Avenue). 

Little  old  Georgetown  has  its  theatre,  its  balls,  its  halls, 
and  its  associations,  and  though  it  does  not  grow  much  of  late 
years,  yet  there  is  more  schooner  coasting-trade  at  its 
wharves ; and  it  grinds  flour,  and  it  is  not  going  to  give  in 
entirely  to  its  big,  growing-proud  sister  t’other  side  the 
White  House — I guess  not— she  was  a Maryland  town  when 
her  big,  lop-sided  sister  was  nothing  but  flat  fields  of  Indian 
corn,  with  a planter’s  old  brick  mansion  here  and  there  (one 
of  those  solid  old  brick  houses  stands  just  above  the  steam- 
boat landing)  in  ruins,  and  decayed  indeed  (but  still  inhabited 
by  two  or  three  families  of  squalid  squatters,  who  pay  little 
or  no  rent),  on  the  model  of  many  of  our  old  brick  country 
mansions,  with  a fine  hall,  and  broad  oak  staircase,  &c. 
Virginia  has  many  such,  still. 

In  short,  the  great  Washington  city  has  been  sliced  off 
Maryland’s  south-western  verge,  a ten  mile  square  lot,  the 
sister  States  made  her  sell  ’em,  perhaps  give,  nothing  loth ; 


70  GEEAT  CANAL  AND  AQUEDUCT. 

for  the  owners  of  the  fields  must  have  made  a pretty  spec  in 
subdivisions,  which  still  goes  on.  This  ten  mile  square 
(district  of  Columbia)  did  stretch  across  the  Potomac,  and 
slice  off  a strip  of  the  Virginia  woods  opposite,  but  of  late 
years,  why  I know  not,  it  has  been  ceded  back  to  Virginia, 
and  is  no  longer  at  all  connected. 

The  two  little  steamers  running  to  Alexandria,  and  a few 
schooners,  form  the  only  river  communications.  The  bridge 
indeed  is  open  across,  and  one  or  two  omnibuses  rim  at  the 
same  fare  to  the  Virginian  Town.  But  Alexandria  has  de-  ■ 
dined  a great  deal  of  late  years  in  her  trade  and  activity ; at 
one  time  her  wharves  were  full  of  large  sea-going  ships  and 
brigs,  now  only  schooners  and  the  river  and  Chesapeake 
small  craft  are  seen  there ; and,  indeed,  the  place  looks, 
wharves,  town,  and  all,  wretchedly  slovenly,  out  of  repair,  and 
neglected.  I went  down  one  day  and  rambled  about  for  a 
couple  of  hours  in  the  mud,  admiring  the  capabilities  thrown 
away — the  neglected  logs,  scantling,  planks,  the  falling  piers 
and  jetties,  rotting  in  holes ; the  slouching  niggers,  and  the 
clothes-drying  Irishers  in  the  smaller  frame  houses. 

I confess  I only  saw  the  water-side  and  the  suburbs ; and 
was  not  sorry  to  get  back  again  by  the  steamer,  which  leaves,  ( 
I think,  every  hour  or  two ; fare,  twelve  cents,  or  sixpence ; i 
the  distance  about  six  miles.  The  railway  to  the  southern 
states  crosses  not  far  below  : so  far  it  may  revive  their  hopes  ; I 
a great  fact  I forgot. 

Another  day  I crossed  the  aqueduct,  which  has  a footpath  I 
beside  it  (the  whole  of  wood,  resting  on  stone  piers;  it  leaks 
sadly,  and  wants  repair),  and  had  a chat  with  the  very  old 
toll-gate  man,  who  out  of  sheer  good-will  took  five  cents  only, 
backwards  and  forwards,  when  he  could  demand  three  cents  I ; 
each  way ; but  in  spite  of  this  toll,  he  said,  and  the  traffic  of  ■. 
the  canal  boats,  it  is  a losing  concern  to  the  shareholders,  i 
This  great  canal — a noble  work — runs  to  Cumberland,  150  < 
miles  across  the  chain  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains  (for  some 
distance  following  the  course  of  the  Potomac) ; but  the  railway 
is  now  completed  to  the  same  place,  and  will  soon  be  con- 
tinued to  Wheeling — on  the  Ohio.  It  is  already  the  rival  of  . < 
the  Philadelphia  railway  to  Pittsburg;  both  rails  having  j 
recourse  to  dozens  of  four-horsed  stages  over  the  parts  not  yet 
finished — the  one  (this)  about  ninety  miles,  the  other  thirty 
miles.  Thence  the  failure  in  the  profit  of  this  canal.  But 
railways,  of  course,  everywhere  supersede  slow  water  con- 
veyance ; very  much  to  the  benefit  of  the  community,  how- 
ever the'  shareholders  either  in  canals  or  cooked  rails  may 
have  to  grin  and  bear  them  small  dividends— or  their  no 
dividends. 

Just  below  the  aqueduct,  on  the  Virginian  side,  there  is  a 


CAPITOL — PICTUEES — STATUES . 


71 


love  of  an  island,  occupied  by  a single  farm ; “ but  nobody 
can  tell,”  said  my  old  man,  “ to  which  state  it  belongs.  No,” 
said  he,  “there’s  been  a lawsuit  about  it,  and  the  lawyers 
jawed  a sight,  but  could  make  nothing  of  it — except  their 
’tarnai  fees.”  At  this  spot,  looking  upwards,  the  river  and 
the  forest-covered  hills  in  their  brilliant-tinted  foliage,  the 
canal,  and  the  suburbs  of  hilly  Georgetown  aside,  and  her 
flour-mills,  form  a very  beautiful  picture.  Looking  down- 
wards, all  the  prominent  buildings  of  the  city  (the  Observatory 
on  its  jutting  hill,  and  the  President’s,  being  the  nearest, 
then  the  Treasury,  the  Monument,  the  Institute,  and  in  the 
extreme  visible  distance  the  domes  of  the  Capitol),  form, 
together  with  the  river,  rather  a rich  than  a picturesque 
view. 

I was  surprised  to  see  so  few  vessels  on  the  river ; but 
there  is,  in  fact,  little  trade  here,  and  most  things  now  reach 
them  by  rail.  Mr.  Webster  is  here  alone  at  his  post;  the 
only  sign  of  any  government  whatever ; all  dispersed — pre- 
sident, senators,  members,  ambassadors,  and  all ; — the  papers 
say,  the  secretary  of  state  is  keeping  house.  The  general  rule 
being  that  everybody  (except  the  natives)  is  living  in  the 
great  hotels,  or  the  great  boarding-houses.  One  of  the 
largest  of  these  other  sort  of  feeding-places  is  opposite  my 
hotel.  Most  of  the  houses  have  verandahs — very  pleasant  in 
hot  or  rainy  weather. 

I often  go  up  to  the  Capitol  and  roam  about  both  gardens, 
back  and  front.  A couple  of  hundred  masons  are  building 
away  at  two  extra  immense  wings  they  are  adding  to  the 
wings  ; sixty  feet  wider  than  the  central  body  itself.  These 
are  to  be  the  new  chambers : already  the  old  ones,  which  are 
very  spacious  (like  the  French  Houses  of  Parliament),  are 
found  too  small  for  their  purposes.  The  whole  interior  of  the 
Capitol  is  easy  of  access.  I often  went  in,  up-stairs  and 
down,  without  any  notice  being  taken,  though  there  is  a 
custodian  in  the  Rotunda,  who  is  very  civil,  and  sends  a 
porter  with  you,  or  comes  himself,  to  show  the  two  chambers, 
which  have  been  often  described.  This  Rotunda  is  a very 
noble  hall  under  the  centre  dome;  it  is  the  grand  ante- 
chamber leading  to  all  others.  The  great  pictures  by  Trum- 
bull are  placed  round  it : they  are  tolerable — better  in  con- 
ception than  execution  ; but  still  respectable.  I thought  the 
“Christening  of  Pocahontas,”  poor ; “Columbus  at  Prayers 
on  his  own  Quarter-deck,  on  the  discovery  of  this  New 
World,”  better.  Two  others  are  not  very  flattering  to  us ! 
In  the  front  fa9ade  to  the  south,  facing  the  non-existent  side 
of  the  city,  the  statues  which  ornament  the  portico  are  but 
indifferent : the  same  may  be  fairly  said  of  a colossal  statue 
of  Washington,  in  the  grounds,  which  some  poor  sculptor  in 


72 


FIXE  VIEWS — LOTS  FOE  SALE. 


his  enthusiasm  took  half  his  life  to  accomplish.  On  the 
pedestal  one  reads  the  pithy  sentence — “First  in  war— first 
in  peace — first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen.” 

There  is  another  marble  monumental  group  put  up  at  the 
north  face,  at  the  head  of  the  fine  double  flight  of  steps  (out 
of  the  garden  below),  brought  here  it  seems  from  the  navy-, 
yard,  in  honour  of  some  captain  and  officers  of  a frigate, 
lulled  at  Tripoli.  They  had  better  have  let  it  alone.  The 
setting  of  this  lumbering  piece  of  crudity  in  an  oval  basin  of 
green  water,  intended  as  a fountain,  strikes  one  as  anything 
rather  than  ornamental.  The  view  on  all  sides  from  this 
handsome  north  terrace  is  very  magnificent,  particularly  from 
the  cupola  above  the  roof,  embracing  the  hills  and  woods 
beyond  Georgetown  ; the  river,  to  where  it  loses  itself  among 
the  mountains  in  the  blue  distance  ; the  whole  town  as  on  a 
map  at  one’s  feet ; the  pretty  wooded  hills  to  the  east  and 
towards  Bladensburg  ; then,  to  the  west  and  south,  across 
the  Pontiac,  the  Virginian  forests,  down  to,  and  far  beyond 
Alexandria,  with  the  woods  of  Maryland  beyond  the  navy- 
yard  and  arsenal,  across  the  Pontiac.  Altogether,  it  is  a 
most  interesting  panorama;  but,  in  descending,  one’s  mind 
descends  too,  and  I couldn’t  help  speculating  on  the  vast 
circumference  of  empty  lots,  growing  more  valuable  every 
day. 

They  are  to  be  had  of  many  private  individuals ; at  this 
moment  emigrants  with  a little  money  might  make  their 
fortunes  in  ground  alone,  if  they  could  afford  to  hold  on  a 
certain  time  1 I muse  on  what  all  this  may  be  a century 
hence  ; when  all  this  plain  will  probably  be  covered  as  closely 
in  brick  as  London  ; when  every  rood  of  ground  will  be  worth 
a fortune  ; when  a tiny  yard,  or  bit  of  garden,  will  be  held  as 
so  veiy  aristocratic,  so  very  distinguished  and  agreeable,  and 
so  impossible,  except  to  dukes,  earls,  and  millionaires — I 
should  say  the  richest  citizens. 

One  has  but  to  look  back  to  the  days,  so  very  recent  as  of 
our  second  George — a mere  yesterday — when  the  whole  of 
our  west-end,  and  north,  and  south,  were  out-of-town  fields, 
even  beyond  flower  and  market-gardens ; where  donkeys 
browsed,  and  boys  played  at  cricket,  in  my  day,  is  now 
Belgravia;  and  just  beyond,  late  in  the  seventeen  hundreds, 
men  were  hung  for  half-a-crown  where  now  Tyburnia  lifts 
her  head,  and  pours  her  modern  gold  into  a bishop’s  pocket ! 

It  is  a great  fault  to  be  disheartened,  and  thinking  oneself 
too  late,  or  too  old,  for  anything ; so  I pursued  the  happy 
speculative  idea  down  the  steps  into  the  garden  and  along  the 
excellent  flag  paved  walk,  (such  as  we  should  have  in  Hyde 
Park,  instead  of  grinding  gravel  and  the  London  clay  !)  to  the 
gate  where  the  ’buses  stand  as  a terminus  to  their  toils.  I 


JIODE  OF  FEEDING. 


73 


mused  on,  clever  in  my  generation,  hastening  my  steps,  half- 
determined  to  run  to  the  first  attorney  and  conveyancer,  to 
secure  a few  El  Dorado  lots  ; sure  to  live  into  the  next 
century,  and  make  my  fortune ; hut,  as  I went,  “ the  native 
hue  of  resolution  was  sickled  o’er  by  the  pale  cast  of  thought, 
and  lost  the  name  of  action !” 

I thought  of  that  “undiscover’d  world,  from  whence  no 
traveller  returns ay,  indeed,  I shall  return  in  a fine 
steamer  or  liner,  and  let  well  alone.  It  was  near  dinner-time 
at  Gadsby’s,  and  “ the  air  bit  shrewdly.”  This  is  a very  clear 
sharp  air — it  is  autumn  ; the  sun  and  moon  shine  bright,  and 
the  heavens  are  of  a fine  celestial  blue  ; but  I deny  that  it  is 
of  a brighter  blue  than  our  own  English  blue,  in  spite  of 
poetic  fancies  and  pens  which  travel  to  Italy  and  America, 
and,  having  come  away,  are  quite  in  ecstasies — but  in  good 
earnest,  with  youth  and  some  little  cash,  ten  thousand  specula- 
tions beckon  the  hardy  adventurer  throughout  the  States.  A 
man’s  sons  and  daughters  may  be  tli£  riches  of  the  house ; it 
is  but  to  work  together,  and  to  one  end.  Everything  is  still 
in  its  infancy ; and  so  is  the  English  idea  of  comfort  only 
dawning  on  the  States  ; how  they  lost  it  originally,  having 
certainly  embarked  with  it,  such  as  it  was,  in  James’s,  and 
Charles’s  and  Anne’s  days,  I know  not.  But  I have  said  a 
good  word  for  Gadsby’s  ; they  are  very  civil,  very  ; but  here 
comes  into  play  the  inevitable  devil-may-care,  lazy,  laughing 
carelessness  of  the  darlcies.  From  the  Irish  spalpeens  and 
dimity^  jackets  of  New.  York  and  Philadelphia,  as  you  come 
south,  you  are  handed  over  to  the  more  assiduous  considera- 
tions and  attentions  of  the  dimity  darkies  who  stand  behind 
your  chair,  in  the  darkness-visihle  halls,  and  feed  you  on 
warm  eatables,  and  cold  and  hot  water ; you  are  as  helpless 
under  their  tyranny  as  a two-year  old  baby.  I have  talked  of 
interminable  long  tables ; at  this  hotel  we  have  immense 
round  tables  ; the  markets  at  Washington  are  very  scantily 
and  badly  supplied,  nothing  is  very  good,  and  the  table  par- 
takes of  it ; hut,  then,  one  has  a foolish  prejudice  in  favour  of 
something  hot  at  dinner.  Nothing  is  ever  “ hot  ” in  America ; 
beefsteaks,  tea,  potatoes,  toast,  and  eggs,  even  corn  cakes,  are 
only  “warm” — when  not  quite  cold;  people  ask  for  warm 
things  (warm  roast-beef!);  but  in  good  sooth,  at  table  nothing 
is  even  “ warm.”  As  usual,  our  food  is  brought  to  us,  helped 
from  the  mysterious  regions  in  the  dim,  dark  vast,  at  one  far 
invisible  end,  where  the  tricksty  yellow  boys  (mulattoes 
mostly)  hold  cabinet  councils  of  fun,  plate  in  hand.  You  have 
consulted  carefully  the  bill  of  fare,  and  if  your  particular 
darky  has  any  bowels  of  compassion,  imu  may  get  something 
of  what  you  send  for  before  it  is  all  gone,  or  quite  cold,  and, 
perhaps,  before  your  more  swift-munching  neighbours  have 


74 


DAEKY  DIALOGUES. 


backed  out  to  their  stores,  to  visit  the  bar,  or  smoke  a 
cigar. 

Now,  though  I fee  these  animals  perforce,  it  little  availed 
as  to  getting  any  given  thing  with  the  smallest  particle  of 
caloric  remaining  perceptible  to  the  taste. 

With  a vast  circumference  of  white  tablecloth,  salt-cellars, 
and  toothpicks  before  one,  nothing  whatever  eatable  is  put  on 
it — and  ten  minutes,  or  fifteen,  must  be  employed  patiently 
picking  one’s  teeth ; one  may  fancy  the  sly  fun  going  on 
among  the  dozen  quambos  who  keep  out  of  sight,  exchanging 
witticisms  at  the  expense  “ ob  de  white  niggers  dey  got  to 
feed  any  how.”  Let  us  suppose  it  at  breakfast,  the  'whole 
gang  of  grinning  woolly-heads  collected  round  the  tea  and 
coffee  coppers,  or  boilers  ; both  liquids  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  coloured  hot  water,  the  taste  very  much  alike,  and  so 
execrable,  that  I send  my  fellow  mildly  back  with  my  cup  to 
beg  it  may  be,  if  possible,  a little  stronger. 

My  Darin/. — Here,  old  Sam,  dat  ole  chap  what  dey  say  jus 
come  from  de  ole  country,  he  say  dis  cup  tea  is  nutting  but 
water,  him  want  to  know  if  can  have  it  lilly  more  ‘ Samp- 
son, ’ (strong !) 

Snozoball  Sam. — Yah ! he,  he ! why  you  no  tell  him  must 
get  use  to  it,  any  how ! {Fills  the  cup  again  from  the  same 
universal  coclc.)  Here,  tell  him  dis  is  ’trong  as  debil  and  half, 
good  measure ! he,  he,  he  ! 

My  Sable  Imp. — '’Sides  dat,  he  say,  dem  egg  is  boiled  hard 
as  corn  cob,  yah,  yah,  wheugh ! 

Ginger  Blue  { another  Imp). — Why,  dat  am  de  way  as  is  all 
biled  to  suit  majority,  and  neber  complains  none  ! No  pleasing 
dem  catawampum  ole  folks,  I guess,  he,  he,  he,  he ! 

My  Imp. — Well,  any  how,  must  gib  one  soff,  I ’spose,  not  to 
break  him  toose  ! if  he  am  got  any,  he,  he,  he ! What  seem 
to  you  he  say  beside  P dat  de  room  am  so  dark  him  can’t  see 
de  way  to  him  mout.  {At  this  a chorus  of  laughter.)  Well, 
him  bess  feel  de  way  ! {Fresh  bursts.) 

Ginger  Snoivball  {head  ivag). — Look  here!  dem  ’ere  ole 
country  Britishers  what  is  so  ’tickler,  dey  bess  stay  at  hum 
(home).  Well,  look  here!  what  ’stonish  some,  dere  is  fuss- 
rate  membrums  ob  Congress  neber  gives  no  trouble  ’bout  de 
egg,  nor  de  tea,  nor  miffing — shouldn’t  wonder  ! What  sort 
ob  tea  dis. blessed  ole  man  got  used  to  F if  am  so  cruel  ’trong, 
make  him  legs  shake,  I guess ! no ! yah ! ( Chorus  of 

chuckles.) 

My  Imp  {as  he  turns  to  bring  me  my  tea  at  last). — Bress 
you— dat  not  all ; yesterday  him  say  de  beefsteak  was  tough 
as  cow-hide,  and  cold  as  dog  nose,  he,  he,  he ! ( Grand 

chorus  of  chuckles .) 

Of  course  my  fresh  cup  of  tea,  which  at  length  my  imp 


CLIMATE — FLOWEBS. 


75 

brings  me,  is  exactly  the  same  as  the  last,  as  with  a serene 
slyness  he  says,  “ Massa,  clis  is  true  ‘ Sampson !’  you  find  dis 
cup  fust-rate  anyhow,  I tell  you !” 

These  idle,  laughing  creatures,  generally  paying  their  real 
masters  so  much  a month,  or  year,  and  getting  a sure  employ- 
ment wherever  they  please,  look  and  feel  like  anything  but 
slaves ! Indeed,  one  would  never  suspect  it ; their  wages  are 
very  high,  and  they  do  the  least  possible  work  for  it. 

I have  seen  nothing  but  the  outsides  of  the  public  build- 
ings ; but  elaborate  description  would  convey  nothing  new. 
The  State-house  and  Town-hall,  where  the  courts  are  held,  is 
a very  handsome  pile,  opposite  the  Patent-office  and  Post- 
office,  all  fine  buildings,  in  the  next  street,  east  of  the  Penn- 
sylvanian Avenue,  near  Five  or  Five-and-a-half-street.  I did 
look  in  one  day  at  the  State-house,  but  the  court  had  just 
risen,  Nor  did  I ever  get  to  the  Observatory,  ably  presided 
over  by  Lieutenant  Maury,  of  the  U.  S.  navy,  who  is  very 
obliging  should  any  stranger  ask  admittance.  He  has  been 
recently  in  England  to  establish  his  admirable  sailing  charts. 
But  indeed  there  is  a most  praiseworthy  and  liberal  feeling  all 
over  the  States  on  this  head ; nothing  is  shut  up,  and  rare 
indeed  do  they  condescend  to  take  fees — the  Irish  and  the 
niggers  alone  ever  dreaming  of  such  a thing. 

I say  nothing  of  climate.  In  this  situation  it  should  be 
delightful,  and  yet  the  intense  heats  of  summer  and  freezings 
of  winter  are  killing.  They  say,  of  late  years  their  tre- 
mendous frosts  are  much  milder  ; but  I fear  this  winter  may 
be  an  exception ; and  I have  to  look  at  Canada  before  I fly 
before  the  north-west  blasts  to  the  south,  down  the  Missis- 
sippi— I must  not  lose  a moment ; and  have  seen  nothing  of 
the  great  men  who  are  about  to  pour  in — nothing  of  the 
Washingtonians/wlio,  a guide-book  says,  are  quite  the  cream 
of  the  Union ! — but  will  they  allow  it  at  Baltimore  ? or  even 
just  in  sight,  down  the  Potomac,  at  Alexandria?  I guess  not. 
It  is  nothing  to  say  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a bit  of 
green  to  be  seen,  except  at  the  White  House  and  Capitol 
garden,  for  the  summers  here  burn  up  everything — and  this 
has  been  a perfect  furnace  of  a summer ; but  I do  not  see 
anything  like  an  attempt  at  a garden  anywhere,  nor  a flower. 
No  wonder!  for  the  slaves  would  soon  kill  not  only  flowers, 
but  the  very  caterpillars  and  worms — if  laziness  and  neglect 
could  do  it : so  the  thing  is  impossible,  as  their  masters,  by 
the  month  or  for  life,  are  themselves  much  too  lazy  to  look 
after  them.  The  only  plant  particularly  cared  for  is  a weed — 
the  Virginian  weed — which  they  chew  and  smoke  with  an 
unwearied  industry  truly  admirable. 


76 


CHAPTER  VI. 

UP  THE  HUDSON. 

ALBANY,  TROY,  BUFFALO,  ERIE  AND  ONTARIO,  TORONTO — DOWN  THE 

ST.  LAWRENCE,  MONTREAL,  QUEBEC  — BACK  BY  LAKE  CHAMPLAIN 

AND  BELLOWS  FALLS,  TOWARDS  BOSTON. 

Returning  to  Heir  York  as  a starting-point  for  the  north,  I 
took  the  upper  line  of  railway  from  Baltimore  to  Philadelphia, 
which  only  requires  the  help  of  steam-boat  to  cross  the  Sus- 
quehanna at  Havre-de-Grace — a good  large  town  on  the  banks 
of  this  fine,  wide,  but  shallow  river : even  here  near  its  mouth 
the  banks  look  very  inviting,  contrasting  pleasantly  with  the 
more  level  and  more  sandy  parts  of  Maryland,  and  partaking 
more  of  Pennsylvania  in  its  looks,  its  crops,  its  everything — 
for  they  are  here  close  on  their  northern  border.  The 
steamer,  a large  and  fast  one,  shot  us  across  in  a twinkling, 
though  the  stream  is  at  least  a mile  wide.  We  passed  the 
Schuylkill  about  four  miles  below  Philadelphia ; putting-to 
four  horses  to  sundry  divisions  of  a long  train  in  the  suburbs, 
and  trotting  into  Broad-street,  and  to  the  corner  of  High- 
street.  Here  the  fire-engine  brigades  of  the  city,  drawn  up, 
awaited  our  arrival  in  all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of 
banners,  uniforms,  bands,  &c.  This  muster  was  to  welcome 
the  Baltimorian  brigades,  or  some  of  their  own  return  com- 
panies— for  now  is  the  great  season  (the  fall)  of  their  visits 
reciprocal  from  city  to  city  ; and  our  cars  were  crammed  with 
these  annihilators  of  fire  in  full  dress  : their  black-glazed  and 
iron  and  brass-bound  hats  and  helmets  encircled  by  wreaths 
of  flowers— some  had  nosegays— all  presented  by  their  fair 
friends.  The  bearing  of  these  young  fellows  was  excessively 
hilarious  and  jolly,  being  well  charged  at  starting  at  the 
various  “bars”  and  “changes,”  and  rushing  out-  at  every 
station  as  we  came  along  to  keep  up  the  rum  and  whisky 
ardour.  However,  I observed  not  one  of  them  beyond  a 
very  pardonable  elevation,  and  they  trundled  themselves  out, 
and  formed  on  one  side  of  the  rails  in  Broad-street  in  perfect 
marching  order — the  whole  moving  off  through  the  principal 
streets  of  the  city,  to  the  great  delight  of  all  the  world. 
Their  bands,  too,  were  in  handsome  uniforms,  and  played,  I 
thought,  very  well. 

I think  it  was  on  this  occasion  I saw  a company  from  Jersey 
City  on  a visit  here,  dressed  in  the  exact  uniform  (blue  and 
buff)  of  Washington  and  the  patriot  armies  who  conquered 
their  independence- — long-skirted  coats,  knee  breeches,  white- 
topped  boots,  and  enormous  cocked  hats,  with  an  immense 


JOTTENET  NOKTHWAEDS. 


77 


upright  feather ! They  caused  quite  a sensation,  and  some 
little  tittering  in  Chesnut-street.  Such  changelings  Tee  lords  of 
the  earth  are ! all  hinges  on  time,  circumstance,  and  place  ! 
But  after  all,  it  requires  no  great  abstraction  to  consider  our 
dresses,  'whether  in  the  last  or  the  present  century,  as  highly 
absurd  and  grotesque.  Our  own  present  triangle  cocked-hats, 
shell  jackets,  paltry  gold  lace,  enormous  epaulettes,  &c., 
are  earned  about  with  all  the  jauntiness  of  high  fashion. 
Why  need  a very  handsome  young  fellow,  an  officer,  too, 
with  his  old  strap-epaulettes  (these  were  volunteers)  look  so 
terribly  out  of  conceit  of  himself,  and  shuffle  along  as  if 
ashamed  of  his  old  war-gear?  Still,  it  was  considered  as 
little  inferior  to  real  Bloomer  in  comicality. 

I took  the  lower  railway  (a  single  line  of  rail,  as  most  of 
them  are,  and  rival  of  the  one  I came  by,)  across  J ersey  from 
Camden  City,  along  the  left  bank  of  the  Delaware,  by  Bor- 
dentown,  Brunswick,  and  to  South  Amboy,  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Eariton,  a muddy  little  tide-river;  but  Perth  Amboy 
opposite,  at  its  mouth,  is  a pretty  town;  and  Staten  Island, 
across  this  arm  of  the  sea  inlet,  quite  charming.  This  is  the 
south  end  of  this  pretty  island.  All  along  this  channel,  up  to 
Hew  York,  its  shore  is  lined  by  farms,  villages,  country  seats, 
and  villas,  till,  as  it  nears  the  bay  of  Hew  York,  there  is  a 
perfect  chain  of  them,  with  their  gardens  or  grounds,  coming 
down  to  the  water,  where  they  keep  boats  for  pleasure,  or  to 
dredge  for  oysters — these  waters  being  alive  with  the  oyster 
fishermen.  The  Jersey  water-side,  a little  way  above  Amboy, 
is  one  flat  of  grazing  meadows  or  swamp,  with  Elizabeth 
Town  in  sight,  on  a gentle  elevation,  five  or  six  miles  off. 

The  Hew  York  steamer  from  Amboy  is  exactly  like  the 
Delaware  ones  I have  described — very  complete  and  very 
fast — though  not  equal  to  the  north  and  east  river  ones  hi 
size  and  speed : one  of  which,  the  Isaac  Hewton,  lying  at  the 
slips  a few  hundred  yards  higher  up,  I immediately  went  on 
board  of,  as  she  was  going  to  start  for  Albany  in  an  hour 
after  we  got  to  the  wharf  at  the  west  side  of  the  Battery.  I 
had  no  time  to  look  at  the  wooden  “ castle ” close  by,  nor  its 
“ garden,”  which  consists  perhaps  of  a few  flower-pots,  for 
no  ground  is  there  more  than  what  it  stands  on  at  the  edge 
of  the  Battery-walk.  This  castle,  however,  is  the  place 
chosen  for  fetes  and  receptions  of  illustrious  strangers  on  their 
landing:  it  contains  a hall  or  large  assembly-room;  here, 
lately,  Jenny  Lind  was  so  obstreperously  and  expensively 
welcomed,  and  here,  since  I landed,  Kossuth  tried  to  speak,  to 
thank  the  American  world  for  his  enthusiastic  reception,  but 
the  crowd  made  such  an  uproar  in  their  great  joy,  that  he 
was  fain  to  sit  down,  merely  (after  many  vain  efforts  to  be 
heard)  observing,  that  as  they  would  not  hear  him,  he  would 


78 


ISAAC  NEWTON  STEAMEE. 


hold  his  tongue.  Alas  ! what  is  enthusiasm  and  the  talk  of 
liberty,  which  not  even  America  can  understand ! After  all 
the  fuss  among  ourselves  first,  and  next  here  about  this  Hun- 
garian hero,  in  one  short  year  he  grows  out  of  fashion ! now 
“none  so  low  to  do  him  reverence” — Punch  and  all  are  mum! 
Poor  man — worn  out  talking,  he  quits,  nothing  loth,  the  noisy 
halls  of  Columbia,  ihi  omnis  effusus  labor,  and  sits  down 
quietly  at  Bayswater. 

Several  of  these  immense  and  most  magnificent  steamers 
leave  Hew  York  for  Albany  every  evening:  one,  the  Troy 
(though  not  so  large  or  fine),  started  at  the  same  instant  as 
the  Isaac  Newton;  we  were  very  full  of  passengers,  deck  and 
cabin.  I have  spoken  of  the  internal  economy  of  these  great 
river  steamers,  but  I must  say  a word  of  the  extravagant  1 
fitting  out  of  this  very  famous  one,  only  eclipsed  in  size  by 
the  New  "World.  The  great  cabin  or  saloon  of  this  immense 
fabric  is  one  mass  of  gilding  on  a white  ground,  in  the  Gothic 
style,  springing  up  in  groined  arches,  about  twelve  feet,  more 
profusely  gilt  than  Horace  Walpole’s  gallery  at  Strawberry  . 
Hill ; the  skylights  above  of  stained  glass,  the  range  of  state-  ] 
room  doors  ricldy  panneled,  carpets,  mirrors,  ottomans,  arm-  i 
chairs,  lounges,  &c.,  tapestry  and  velvet;  in  short,  nothing 
afloat  was  ever  finer,  and  all  perfect,  except  perhaps  in  taste 
and  delicacy  as  to  colours  and  patterns,  but  that  hardly 
to  be  found  fault  with.  The  building  and  fitting  of  these  j> 
boats  must  be  something  quite  enormous ; they  seem  never  to  : 
consider  expense ; everything  is  handsome,  and  on  the  most 
ample  scale,  always  excepting  of  late  years  their  tables.  Still 
I must  say,  in  this,  too,  the  steamers  are  much  better  than 
the  hotels,  after  all. 

Their  appointments,  too,  are  on  a grand  scale — clerks, 
stewards,  engineers,  stokers,  tlie  crew,  servants  very  nume-  t 
rous  and  well-dressed ; those  of  the  great  cabin,  the  waiters 
(mulattoes)  in  velvet  caps  and  jackets  alike*  with  a smart 
esprit  de  corps,  which  tells  well.  Ten  to  one  you  do  not  find 
out  who  the  captain  is,  unless  you  pitch  on  the  greatest  swell 
on  board,  or  mark  who  sits  at  the  head  of  the  ladies’  end  of  | 
these  half-mile  tables,  for  you  never  hear  an  order  or  a word  ■ 
above  their  breath.  All  these  steamers  steer  forward  before 
the  funnels,  in  a centre,  elevated,  glazed  wheel-house,  on  the 
upper  deck,  where  the  pilots,  mates,  and  occasionally  the 
captain,  congregate^  Why  do  we  still  persist  in  leaving  our 
helmsmen  unsheltered,  and  our  engineers  on  our  railway 
engines  F In  the  States  they  are  always  protected  by  a glass 
screen  or  frame.  The  Americans  dare  all  man  dares  do,  but 
they  know  the  severity  and  risk  of  facing  wind,  rain,  and 
cold,  totally  exposed  as  our  helmsmen  and  engineers  are. 

As  there  was  the  Troy  opposition  steamer,  as  fast  a boat  as 


UP  THE  HUDSON, 


79 


ourselves  (neck  aud  neck  the  whole  way),  the  fare  was  very 
low — a dollar  and  a quarter ; but  the  sleeping  cabin  charged 
separate,  half  a dollar,  with  a great  rush  to  the  office  to  secure 
berths  and  tickets  for  tea  (that  is,  hot  water).  We  soon 
passed  the  Palisades,  a remarkable  range  of  high  rocks  on  the 
J ersey  shore,  in  sight  above  from  N ew  York ; and  while  an  im- 
mense mob  besieged  the  lower  dining  saloon  (in  gold  and  white 
columns,  as  splendid  as  that  above),  the  door  kept  closed  by 
a woolly-headed  Janus  some  minutes  after  the  gong  had 
clamoured  round.  This  manoeuvre  is  understood  to  allow  the 
ladies  (husbands,  brothers,  cousins,  particular  friends,  or 
chance  acquaintance)  to  get  seated  at  the  best  ends ; then 
comes  the  rush  of  “outer  barbarians,”  or  bachelors,  who 
have  not  by  hook  or  crook  the  smallest  nodding  acquaintance 
among  the  fair. 

We  all  know,  however,  what  a supper  crush  is  of  white 
cravated  gentlemen — very  gentle — whether  in  days  of  old  at 
Bothschild’s  or  Lafitte’s,  DemidofPs  or  Borghese’s,  or  nearer 
home  in  our  own  polite  circles,  and  at  Guildhall  or  the  Man- 
sion-house. The  thing  is  not  new,  only  here  it  is  periodical, 
and  quite  in  an  undress  sans  ceremonie. 

blight  and  a dense  fog  closed  round  us  as  we  advanced,  but 
the  Hudson  and  its  fine  hills  have  been  often  described.  In 
the  morning  we  found  ourselves  at  anchor  six  or  seven  miles 
short  of  Albany;  the  river  most  unusually  low;  curious 
rolling  waves  followed  our  track  in  shallow  water,  added  to 
the  fog,  had  compelled  our  stop ; we  had  left  our  opposition 
steamer,  the  Troy,  a little  once  or  twice,  but  she  was  now 
fairly  alongside.  Indeed,  during  the  night,  I heard  the  ring- 
ing of  ours  and  her  bell  at  intervals.  We  soon  proceeded  as 
the  sun  rose,  but  with  barely  water  enough  to  carry  us  up. 
The  only  inconvenience  to  those  going  further  was,  that  we 
lost  the  morning  train  to  the  west ; and  Albany,  though  a 
good  large  town,  and  the  seat  of  government  of  the  state,  is  a 
stupid,  dull  place,  where  one  would  not  willingly  throw  away 
an  hour ; so,  having  deposited  my  carpet-bag  at  an  hotel  in 
State-street,  I crossed  the  river  to  Green  Bush,  a straggling 
•village  opposite,  not  much  grown  of  late  years,  except  in  its 
railway  station,  to  Troy.  At  Green  Bush  I rambled  up  the 
hills,  beyond  the  last  frame-houses,  to  have  a good  look  at 
Albany,  which  of  course  has  spread  over  her  steep  hill  consi- 
derably, and  stretched  up  the  river  in  wharves  and  timber-yards 
in  the  course  of  twenty  years,  but  is  not  much  altered  in  its 
general  features.  Its  trade  is  chiefly  active  as  an  entrepot  to 
the  lakes  by  its  canal  and  rail.  Here  one  sees  hundreds  of 
canal-boats  in  the  locks  and  basins,  just  down  or  just  start- 
ing, having  been  previously  towed  up  in  dozens  by  the  tug- 
steamers  I have  mentioned.  Several  hens  and  chickens  of 


80 


ALBAN  Y AND  TKOY. 


this  kind,  carrying  goods  and  emigrants,  wo  passed  coming 
up.  Indeed,  this  grand  river  is  constantly  crowded,  up  as 
liigk  as  Troy,  for  its  whole  navigable  length,  160  miles,  with 
schooners,  sloops,  and  steamers  of  every  possible  description, 
and  loaded  with  all  sorts  of  possible  notions ; the  stream  of 
traffic  and  emigration  going  on  from  the  great  depot  (New 
York)  along  up  Lake  Erie,  round  Michigan,  to  Chicago,  on 
the  further  side,  then  splitting  off  towards  the  Ohio  south, 
or  the  other  great  lakes  and  wilds  north. 

While  I was  dwelling  on  these  stirring  facts,  and  making 
my  way  upwards  towards  a church  amidst  some  latter-day 
firs,  two  fierce  dogs,  not  caring  a pin  for  my  cogitations,  or 
trade  either,  came  after  my  heels ; two  dogs  are  awkward, 
hut  the  good  lady  of  the  frame-house,  their  mistress,  left  her 
clothes  on  the  line,  and  very  kindly  called  them  off,  for 
which  I felt  much  obliged,  and  acknowledged  it  with  becoming 
urbanity. 

I have  called  Albany  stupid  and  dull : what  nonsense ! it  is 
all  life  and  hustle  in  the  dry  goods  and  emigrant  line.  Far 
as  the  eye  can  reach  upwards,  one  sees  crowds  of  boats, 
steamers,  builders’  and  timber  yards,  manufacturing  chim- 
neys, all  speaking  of  great  and  increasing  activity ; to  say 
nothing  of  the  vast  numbers  of  large  canal-boats,  many  full 
of  emigrants,  chiefly  Irish  and  German,  all  bound  in  good 
earnest  to  the  west,  sifted  from  the  dregs  who  stick  in  New 
York  or  the  cities  on  the  sea-board. 

Seeing  the  cars  about  to  start  for  Troy,  I ran  down  and 
got  in ; only  twelve  miles — almost  in  sight — quite,  from  the 
Albany  side  hills.  Arrived  there,  we  were  trotted  along  the 
chief  water-side,  Liver-street,  by  horses,  as  usual,  and  depo- 
sited about  the  centre  of  the  town,  which  I was  surprised  to 
find  so  large,  and  with  as  much  stir  and  trade  going  on  as  at 
Albany — at  least  in  the  streets,  if  not  on  the  river,  where, 
however,  a good  sprinkling  of  steamers  and  small  craft  stay 
at  the  wharves  below  the  bridge  and  viaduct  (of  the  rail  to 
Ogdensburg,  by  Lake  Champlain),  which  crosses  the  stream 
above  the  town.  The  Cohoe’s  Falls  is  just  above,  where  the 
Mohawk  joins  the  Hudson. 

Notliing  is  so  dreary  as  rvalking  about  a strange  town 
alone.  The  day  was  very  fine,  one  of  the  balmy  Indian 
summer  ones.  I like  hills,  and  made  my  way  up  one  of 
the  steep  streets  to  the  range  immediately  over  the  place, 
from  whence  the  view  up  and  down  the  river  is  very  fine,  the 
many-coloured  shades  of  the  woods  and  foliage  in  all  direc- 
tions, bright  scarlet  and  yellow,  making  it  very  rich.  There 
is  something  grand  in  the  distant  blue  line  in  the  horizon  of 
virgin  forests,  which  meets  the  eye  in  most  American  scenes. 


PAT  o’GOKMAN.  81 

Here  it  stretches  along  the  track  of  the  Mohawk,  to  the 
westward. 

Having  gained  the  fields  clear  of  lots  and  sites  for  rich 
citizens’  villas  (some  charmingly  inviting  spots),  I sat  down 
under  the  shade  of  a friendly  tree,  when  a little  fellow  came 
along,  “whistling  for  want  of  thought,”  barefooted,  with 
plenty  of  brogue.  It  was  Patrick  O’Gorman,  himself  to  the 
fore,  in  a transition  state,  waiting  he  was  for  his  brother. 
Pat  sat  down,  as  I invited  him,  on  the  sod  beside  me,  and 
was  quite  friendly  in  an  instant ; showed  me  his  dad’s  house 
just  behind  us,  over  the  next  field,  a good  large  frame-house, 
half  sub-let,  well  to  do.  Pat  was  eleven  years  old;  “didn’t 
go  to  school  since  last  winter ; didn’t  want  to,  much ; liked 
marbles,”  Pat’s  exchequer  being  low,  I made  him  happy 
with  two  cents ; but  Pat  was  ’cute  as  a ’possum,  and  will  soon 
be  one  of  the  go-ahead  citizens,  not  a doubt  of  it ; and  so  I 
bid  the  little  fellow  kindly  a long  good-bye,  in  this  sunny 
work-a-day  world.  What  it  is  to  speak  to  and  to  know,  and 
. not  to  speak  to,  not  to  know ! and  so  we  pass  through  life’s 
pilgrimage.  But  it  was  now  time  to  get  back  to  Albany.  By 
way  of  varying  my  route,  I crossed  the  river  in  one  of  the 
clever  horse-ferryboats,  really  four-horse  power.  They  work 
on  the  disc  of  the  great  centre  cog-wheel,  which,  turning 
horizontally  under  the  deck,  turns  the  paddles.  The  contriv- 
ance is  admirable ; at  once  economical  and  prompt.  I crossed 
in  the  stage  ’bus,  which,  too,  had  four  horses,  not  yet  put 
down  by  the  railroad.  For  why?  They  are  at  a trifle  less 
fare — twelve  cents  and  a-half  (the  rail,  I think,  eighteen 
cents) — and  rim  into  the  centre  of  State-street,  handily  to  a 
certain  tavern ; hut,  like  our  ’buses,  if  you  don’t  get  down 
there,  they  nail  you  for  six  cents  more  for  a few  hundred 
yards  further,  to  where  the  steam-boats  lie.  This  proved  an 
exceedingly  pleasant  drive  of  twelve  miles,  on  an  excellent 
turnpike-road ; the  only  good  one  I ever  saw  in  the  States. 

Albany  has  been  often  written  about.  There  are  no  lions, 
except  the  “'Great  Canal,”  which  comes  with  its  locks  and 
basins  to  the  wharves.  I once  went  by  it  to  Lake  Erie,  350 
• or  360  miles,  the  scenery  through  forests  and  beautifully 
wild  and  romantic  spots,  particularly  near  the  little  falls,  or 
the  Mohawk,  and  at  Lockport.  It  is  said  that  this  same 
canal,  of  which  they  were  so  justly  proud,  broke  Governor 
Clinton’s  heart ; something  of  the  fate  of  our  own  Middleton, 
of  the  Hew  Biver  benefit!  The  gratitude  of  mankind  is 
proverbial ; but  patriots  fare  worse  in  republics,  I fear,  than 
in  kingdoms. 

Hurrying  to  the  depot,  or  railway-station,  in  Maiden-lane, 
I was  vexed  to  find  we  started  so  late ; just  sunset.  "While 

G 


S2 


RAILWAY  CARS  AXD  CUSTOMS. 


seated  in  tlie  cars,  waiting  to  be  off,  we  all  poked  our  beads 
out  to  witness  a row,  the  first  I have  seen  any  approach  to  ; 
but  the  belligerents  only  struck  each  other  with  hard  words 
after  all,  to  our  great  disappointment. 

Flying  along  in  the  dark  all  night,  we  arrive  at  Buffalo 
next  day  by  eleven  o’clock,  passing  through,  on  the  way,  most 
of  those  enormous  villages  so  much  talked  of,  as  springing  up 
by  magic — Schenectady,  Utica,  Borne,  Syracuse,  Salina ; but 
particularly  Bochester,  on  the  Genessee  Elver,  now  a large 
city,  where  we  crossed  it,  close  to  the  Eomantic  Falls. 

On  this  route  three  or  four  beautiful  small  lakes  are 
passed ; at  Geneva,  Skeniatiles,  Canandaigua,  all  surrounded 
by  their  primitive  woods  or  fields,  still  filled  with  stumps  of 
trees,  as  yet  unrotted,  all  wild,  but  all  beautiful  in  their  very 
wildness ; nor  do  I hear  that  the  countiy  on  this  track  is 
unhealthy.  Hereabouts  is  Cooperstown,  where  Cooper,  the 
American  novelist,  died  in  his  own  village ; after  abusing  us 
English  all  his  life,  living  with  us  and  abroad,  he  returned 
home  in  his  old  age  to  find  all  sorts  of  nuisances  and  vexa- 
tions, at  which  he  ill  vain  growled,  and  so  he  died. 

At  the  Buffalo  station  there  was  quite  an  army  of  omni- 
buses, carriages,  and  cabs.  This  “ Depot”  very  large  and 
handsome,  with  the  air  of  an  immense  traffic.  A word  of 
American  railway  travelling : I begin  to  change  my  mind  as 
to  its  excellence.  Their  cars  may  be  more  safe  in  a regular 
smash,  but  all  else  is  decidedly  bad  and  uncomfortable.  I 
will  say  nothing  of  the  centre-alley  abominations,  where 
everybody  squirts  his  tobacco-juice ; but  the  seats  are  uncom- 
fortable, and  hardly  have  room  for  two,  in  such  close  pro- 
pinquity with  an  utter  stranger ; the  hard  wooden  back  of 
the  seat  in  front  of  you  is  close  against  your  knees  (dange- 
rous in  a shock),  and  those  in  them  throw  their  arms  over,  or 
their  legs,  or  their  great  coats  right  on  you,  so  depriving  you 
of  the  little  room  left.  Your  feet  have  no  resting-place,  not 
even  a bar,  as  in  some,  to  keep  them  out  of  the  filth.  All  this 
is  very  annoying  in  a journey  of  seventeen  hours.  The  con- 
ductor never  condescends  to  explain  anything  or  say  a word, 
except  to  see  or  change  your  ticket ; and  often  one  is  afraid  to 
stir,  as  nobody  knows  whether  any  stop  will  be  long  or  short. 
If  you  are  forced  to  risk  it,  when  you  return  you  find  your 
seat  taken ; you  walk  on  the  whole  length  of  the  car  perhaps 
in  vain,  and  must  try  the  next  one  before  or  behind.  If  you 
have  your  carpet-bag  with  you  (if  very  small),  you  must 
return  for  it  (hung  on  a peg  where  you  were),  and  lug  it  out 
with  you.  You  may,  indeed,  see  a seat  or  two  with  only  one 
single  lady  occupant.  In  this  predicament  a Quakeress  once 
said  to  me,  “ Thee  may  sit  down;”  but  killing  delicacy  and 
custom  forbids.  It  is  a ticklish  point  to  put  yourself  beside 


BUFFALO,  OX  LAKE  EEIE. 


83 


the  fair ; it  is  considered,  I believe,  a liberty.  She  may  not 
assent  to  a distressed  wanderer.  But  I have  seen  a most 
ludicrous  awkwardness  in  a pilgarlic  in  search  of  a seat,  like 
myself,  afraid  to  try  it  on,  and  yet  forced  to;  and  so  edging 
himself  in  “slantingdicular,”  with  extreme  caution,  as  if  a 
rattlesnake  had  the  other  half.  Now,  there  is  no  doubt  about 
the  right,  of  course ; but  Americans  have  a great  awe  of  a 
lone  lady ! Whether  the  women  plume  themselves  on  this 
most  inconvenient  privilege,  I know  not. 

One  more  car  grievance  is  the  stove  in  cold  weather ; you 
burn  near  it,  and  you  freeze  a yard  or  two  off ; so  altogether, 
on  second  thoughts,  I prefer  our  own  carriages.  In  comfort, 
indeed,  there  is  no  comparison ; but  the  Americans  never  care 
about  comfort.  At  most  of  the  stations,  girls  and  boys  come 
through  all  the  cars,  offering  apples  and  peaches,  the  daily 
papers  and  pamphlets,  tracts,  and  small  books  stuffed  with 
wonderful  conversions,  escapes,  or  murders. 

The  fare  to  Buffalo,  upwards  of  300  miles,  six  dollars  sixty 
cents,  about  twenty-seven  shillings.  Our  railways  might 
take  a lesson  of  them  in  moderation,  at  any  rate  ; and  there 
is  hardly  anywhere  a second-class  car.  This  very  moderate 
fare  makes  it  unnecessary.  I have  seen  negroes  frequently 
admitted ; they  generally  sit  together  at  one  end ; and  this 
kind  of  modest  reserve  would  be,  I dare  say,  enforced  if 
infringed  on.  They  are  always  deck  passengers  in  the 
steamers,  though  most  of  the  cabin  servants  are  coloured 
people. 

Putting  myself  in  one  of  the  dozen  omnibuses  drawn  up  at 
the  station,  I went  to  the  American  Hotel,  in  Main-street, 
then  rambled  about  the  town.  The  black  mud,  knee-deep, 
of  twenty  years  ago,  in  the  streets,  is  now  replaced  by  good 
pavements,  brick  at  the  sides,  macadamised,  for  the  road. 

What  can  one  say  of  Buffalo  not  already  said  by  somebody? 
It  lies  nearly  flat,  by  the  side  of  this  eastern  end  of  the  lake, 
where  it  narrows  into  a river,  and  rims  (thirty-five  miles), 
plunging  over  Niagara,  on  to  the  Ontario.  Like  all  these 
very  new  large  American  towns,  its  streets  are.  wide,  regular, 
in  right  angles,  full  of  good  brick  houses,  with  the  extremi- 
ties in  board  or  frame,  painted  white;  churches,  shops, 
changes,  hotels,  private  houses,  invariably  after  one  plan,  here 
and  there  shaded  by  the  willows  or  poplars ; for  the  rage  for 
cutting  down  the  old  forest  trees  lias  left  all  their  cities  and 
towns  bare,  and  those  planted  are  slow  of  growth,  or  grow 
poor  slender  things.  In  the  same  way  they  have  left  nowhere 
either  common,  green,  park,  or  garden.  Nobody  wants  any 
walk  but  the  streets,  no  recreation  beyond  dealing  with 
passing  emigrants,  and  selling  dry  goods.  But  mark  what 
eager  enterprise  does ; its  imports  reach  twenty-three,  its 


84 


EETEOSPECTS  AND  PEOSPECTS. 


exports  twenty-eight  millions  of  dollars  per  annum.  This 
arises  from  its  situation  as  a central  point  and  depot  from 
New  York  by  tlie  canal,  wkicli,  striking  the  river  three  or 
four  miles  below  the  town,  at  the  Tonawonda  creek,  near 
Black  Bock,  continues  along  the  river  shore  to  the  foot  of 
High  (Main)  street,  where  it  ends  in  vast  basins,  and  the 
harbour  full  of  steamers  and  lake  shipping  to  and  from  the 
far  west.  Thus,  aided  by  the  railway  for  passengers  and  the  ; 
finer  goods,  though  already  herculean,  it  may  be  said — arid 
who  can  doubt  it  ? — to  be  only  in  its  infancy.  The  place  is 
at  least  three  times  the  size  it  was  twenty  years  ago,  and 
then  it  was  cited  as  one  of  the  marvels  of  these  woods  and 
wilds. 

Buffalo  is  full  of  churches,  chapels,  halls,  assembly-rooms,  ; 
societies,  a theatre ; in  short,  all  things  common  to  large  j 
cities ; but  there  is  a lake  and  far  west  coarseness,  a certain  | 
careless  rawness  in  everything.  New  York  is  refined  com- 
pared with  this,  not  because  it  is  so  much  larger,  hut  modes  ! I 
of  thought  vary  at  this  distance,  and  we  approach  the  Indian  i 
wilds — once  Indian ! Poor  things,  they  are  nowhere  now  ! ' 
How  much  of  the  early  contact  may  be  now  traced  in  the  race  I 
of  our  cousins?  A good  deal;  formal,  taciturn,  sudden; 
humour  and  joviality  seldom  lights  up  the  face  in  smiles,  all 
is  practical  utility,  the  one  great  aim  and  end ; and  were  we  1 
all  poor,  felling  trees,  building  houses,  and  hoeing  corn,  a 
good  end  and  aim ; but  already  it  sits  behind  barrels,  cases,  j 
cotton,  and  iron,  affects  finery,  has  left  the  fields,  and  the 
woods  and  fields’  simplicity  and  truth;  the  wits  are  sharpened, 
and  it  is  now  one  universal  struggle  in  sharpness,  the  features  i 
not  a jot  relaxed. 

Were  I young  and  had  my  fortixne  to  seek,  with  my  rifle 
and  axe,  this  is  the  country.  But  here  there  is  no  luxury  in 
reciprocity  of  thought  or  feeling;  few  of  the  amenities  of  life,  1 
no  matter  what  the  riches  or  creature  comforts.  So,  Buffalo, 
adieu  ! I would  rather  five  in  any  little  poor  Scotch  or  Irish 
village,  or  Welsh,  or  Italian,  in  the  chesnut  Apennines.  I 
know  not  what  makes  me  say  this,  for  what  do  I know  of 
Buffalo  ? Perhaps,  that  all  the  lower  part  of  the  town  near 
the  wharves  has  just  been  burned  down,  the  bridge  over  the 
canal,  and  a chapel  near  it,  said  to  be  not  at  all  accident ; 
and  here  I saw  a savage  fight  among  some  navvies  clearing 
away  the  rubbish  and  ruins,  one  fellow  struck  another  with  a 
spade  when  down  (always  rough  and  tumble),  like  a true, 
good-for-nothing  ruffian. 

I passed  on  to  the  basin  of  the  steamers  about  to  start  up 
the  lake ; one  had  a band  hard  at  work  to  entice  emigrants  to 
“walk  up,”  as  at  our  fair  booths,  while  flaming  placards  held 
out  all  sorts  of  advantages  in  opposition.  It  is  not  uncommon, 


EWIGEANTS  IN  TEANSITU. 


85 


even  now,  to  see  the  shore  lined  with  emigrants  from  all  coun- 
tries, Germans  particularly,  sitting  on  their  bedding  and 
hoses,  their  only  home,  ready  for  the  last  stage  perhaps,  up 
this  two  hundred  mile  lake,  and  on  and  on,  to  St.  Clair,  and 
the  Huron,  Green  Bay,  Wisconsin,  and  Iowa. 

Chicago  has  of  late  years  been  the  land  of  promise  as  a 
thriving  town ; and  wonders  spoken  of  Green  Bay,  on  that 
western  side,  as  the  most  charming  spot  yet  explored,  and 
getting  settled.  These  great  steamers  run  up  and  down  the 
whole  chain  regularly,  heavily  loaded  with  goods  and  pas- 
sengers— not  a few  Yankees,  restless  spirits  from  the  New 
England  States  ; they  quit  their  stores  and  scanty  pastures 
for  the  fatter  west,  but  fever  and  ague  (at  least  in  Michigan) 
destroy  then-  health,  making  life  itself  not  worth  sup- 
porting. 

We  are  all  running  after  some  good  we  never  attain,  but 
here  no  man  seems  to  possess  anything  but  as  a stepping- 
stone  to  something  else  ; no  one  lives  or  enjoys  anything — 
hut  they  mean  to.  I speak  of  the  rich  moving  world. 

The  weather  so  far  is  delightful.  A few  frosts  have  Hilled 
the  main  body  of  the  mosquito  army,  and  they  barely  skir- 
mish with  balmy  sleep,  to  which  the  beds  invite,  being  gene- 
rally very  good  wool  mattresses,  better  at  all  times  than 
feather  beds,  at  least  in  warm  weather. 

A new  railroad  has  just  been  finished  from  New  York  to 
Dunkirk,  near  Cleveland,  on  Lake  Erie  ; it  crosses  the  Hud- 
son lower  down,  at  Catskill,  or  Hudson-town,  cutting  through 
the  state  diagonally.  It  is  in  connexion  with  other  railroads 
south,  through  the  Ohio  State,  coming  in  on  the  river  at 
Cincinnati,  to  be  prolonged  through  Kentucky  and  Missis- 
sippi, and  to  St.  Louis  through  Indiana,  on  the  west  side. 
It  has  a branch  to  Pittsburg.  Thus,  there  are  now  three  or 
four  rival  routes  to  the  lakes — the  Ohio,  Mississippi,  and 
Missouri.  It  already  draws  off  some  of  the  passengers  and 
traffic  which  was  before  forced  through  Buffalo.  It  gains  the 
Ohio  or  Chicago  quicker,  there  being  a railroad  straight 
across  the  State  of  Michigan  from  Cleveland  and  Detroit, 
cutting  short  the  long  round  of  the  lakes  ; but  these  rails  are 
much  more  expensive  than  the  steamers  and  canal,  so  that 
poor  emigrants  never  take  it,  time  with  them  being  of  little 
moment. 

Two  small  steamers  ply  down  the  Niagara  Liver  as  far  as 
the  Lapids.  I chose  the  English  one  (the  Emerald)  to  Chip- 
pawa.  A good,  bluff,  John  Bull  of  a captain  put  me  in  mind 
of  our  own  skippers  ; but,  indeed,  there  is  a close  likeness  in 
manner  of  all  merchant  sea-captains.  It  comes  of  the  rough- 
and-ready,  the  habit  of  command,  the  constant  risks,  hard- 
ships, and  essential  activity.  The  fare  to  Chippawa  was,  I 


86 


CHIPPAWA  VILLAGE. 


thinly,  a dollar,  the  short  three  horse  rail  of  nine  or  ten  miles 
beyond  the  Falls  to  Queenstown  included.  Passing  Grand 
Island,  which  the  Americans  take  by  hocus-pocus,  as  if  more 
on  their  side  of  the  river,  and  the  famous  Navy  Island  lower 
down,  on  their  left  side,  one  would  think  it  a favourable  spot 
to  settle  on ; but  I observed  only  a log-house,  or  shanty  or 
two,  in  the  woods  near  the  water,  for  the  woodcutters,-  j 
Except  a cleared  patch  or  two,  farming,  or  anything  like  a 
settlement,  does  not  seem  attempted.  Indeed,  our  own  Cana- 
dian side  along  this  track  looks  equally  wild  and  neglected. 
Nor  is  this  savage  forest  scenery  much  altered  even  to  the 
Welland  Itiver,  where  we  landed,  at  a kind  of  tumble-down  I 
wooden  wharf,  where  a large  party  of  what  I at  first  took  to  ( 
be  Indians  were  huddled  together  amidst  their  goods  and 
chattels;  but  they  turned  out  Norwegian  emigrants!  The 
women  extremely  resembled  Indian  squaws,  at  a little  distance. 
These  good  people  were  waiting  for  a passage  further  on.  I 
should  remark  that  from  this  point  the  river  rushes  on  to  the  < 
Rapids  with  accelerated  force.  Indeed,  it  gradually  increases  > 
even  from  Buffalo  ; but  not  so  much,  I think,  as  the  captain  | 
said — seven  miles  an  hour — more  like  three  or  four. 

Chippawa  is  a wretched  village,  with  all  the  marks  of  idle  in-  | 
difference  in  the  board  and  log-houses,  the  fences,  and  the 
attempts  at  bits  of  cabbage  and  potatoe  gardens.  One  is, 
indeed,  disagreeably  struck  by  the  great  difference  between  ! 
the  two  sides  of  the  river  and  lakes,  very  sadly  to  our  disad- 
vantage, and  so  it  continued  all  the  way  down  the  St.  Law-  i 
rence ; not  so  much  in  the  towns,  for  ours  are  the  oldest  1 
settled  and  much  the  largest,  but  in  the  industry  and  activity  j 
of  the  people  in  them.  Here  we  at  once  had  a pretty  specimen  : j 
under  a shed,  the  station,  where,  after  a long  delay,  a slouch-  j 
ing,  ill-dressed  clodhopper  brought  out  and  put  to  his  three  j 
lean  horses,  with  such  wretched  harness  that,  on  the  cars  1 
starting,  one  of  his  make-shift  traces  broke  before  we  had  got 
clear  of  the  town,  and  we  were  fain  to  wait  for  sundry  patch- 
ings and  knottings.  When  at  last  we  did  proceed,  it  was  at  •. 
the  most  sleepy  of  trots  ; all  this  spoke  at  once  for  the  fashion 
of  things  at  Chippawa,  and  yet  our  people  affect  very  much  . 
the  American  independent  manner,  even  the  same  twang  and 
emphasis,  the  same  quiet  indifference,  which,  too,  they  carry 
beyond  their  wiser  neighbours  in  things  essential;  all  is 
sluggish  and  slovenly.  Nothing  on  one’s  path  seems  at  all 
getting  on  ; nothing  but  what  our  government  does  ; always 
at  a very  disproportioned  outlay  for  any  good  afterwards  ' 
derived  from  it.  The  Welland  Canal  to  wit.  All  down  the 
Niagara  Biver  it  is  particularly  obtruded  on  the  traveller.  ; ; 
Handsome  large  villages  keep  fast  increasing ; Manchester,  at 
the  Falls,  Lewistown,  Fort  Niagara,  &c.,  on  the  opposite  side ; 


BAPIDS  AND  FALLS  OF  THE  NIAGABA. 


87 


while,  on  onrs,  there  is  little  or  no  stir  or  increase  of  popula- 
tion in  the  towns  or  of  farms,  corresponding  to  those  so  near 
them.  Thus  our  side  of  the  great  Tails,  though  they  have 
built  a great  hotel  just  below  them  (the  Clifton),  is  still  a mere 
scattered  hamlet ; while  the  Falls  village,  on  the  American 
side,  has  grown  quite  a large  town.  They  have  affectedly 
changed  its  name  from  Manchester,  and  old  Goat  Island  is 
now  finer  Iris  Island.  What’s  in  a name  ! but  no  doubt  it  is 
to  suit  the  excessive  raptures  of  our  English  tourists,  who 
flock  here  every  summer  to  torture  themselves  (and  readers) 
to  find  expressions  intense  enough  for  their  bewildered  sensa- 
tions, all  about  the  plunge  of  this  great  river  ! To  be  sure,  it 
is  very  fine,  but  so  is  the  Rapids,  before  it  leaps  over.  Nobody 
ever  says  a word  of  them,  or  of  the  whole  scene,  which,  after 
all,  is  the  really  sublime.  I strained  my  eyes  as  we  trotted 
along  to  catch  the  whole  expanse  ; the  sun  and  clouds  threw 
flitting  shadows  at  that  moment,  the  rushing  river,  on  our 
side  a dark  blue,  where  the  whole  line  marks  its  plunging 
descent.  The  island  in  its  rich  autumnal  colours,  and  the 
American  half  bright  in  the  sun ; the  fragrant  aroma  of  the 
pines  in  the  balmy  air ; the  rushing  rapids  from  far  above  ; 
dancing,  sparkling,  bounding,  as  if  eager  to  get  over;  beyond, 
along  the  whole  horizon,  one  interminable  forest,  shaded  in 
various  hues,  till  lost  in  deepening  blue  tints  along  the  edges 
of  Ontario,  or  the  Genessee,  about  Rochester.  This  rocky 
ridge  of  the  Falls  extending  in  that  direction,  giving  a slight 
elevation,  through  which  the  Great  Canal  is  cut  at  Lockport ; 
where,  by  the  way,  a succession  of  stupendous  locks  marks  the 
magnificence  of  the  enterprise. 

Near  the  Falls  we  came  to  the  Ferry-house  Hotel  (eclipsed 
by  the  new  grand  one  below),  now  empty  and  going  to  ruin, 
its  windows  broken,  its  small  garden  all  weeds. 

It  stands  in  a commanding  situation  above,  from  whence 
the  view  must  be  superb.  I observed  an  artist  on  the  green 
bank  below  us  had  set  up  his  easel  in  form,  and  was  painting 
away.  I,  too,  took  a sketch  in  my  mind’s  eye,  and  a scratch 
or  two  in  my  pocket-book ; but  Niagara  has  been  done  ad 
nauseam  from  below  ; ’tis  time  to  give  some  faint  idea  of  the 
Rapids,  not  that  I could  do  it ; but  I did  regret  more  and  more 
afterwards,  when  too  late,  that  I did  not  get  down  and  join 
Jenny  Lind,  and  the  busy  convivial  inmates  of  the  great  Clif- 
ton hotel,  which  stands  near  the  old  Museum  and  steep  ladder- 
steps,  which  leads  to  the  close  drenching  view  of  this  mighty 
cataract.  A small  steamer  now  runs  backwards  and  forwards 
as  a ferry  among  the  splashing  foam  and  whirlpools  close 
below  it,  so  that  parties  cross  and  recross,  in  the  course  of  any 
day,  to  and  from  the  American  side  ; indeed  the  greater  num- 
ber of  sightseers  stay  at  the  American  hotels,  at  the  Falls 


88 


LEWISTOWN,  AND  SUSPENSION  BEIDGE. 


village,  where  they  cross  over  the  frail  bridges,  from  rock  to 
rock,  to  Iris  Island,  in  the  centre  of  the  Rapids,  saunter  about 
in  its  cool  shades,  take  mint  juleps,  sherry  coblers,  and  buy 
moccasins  at  the  sort  of  shop  there.  But  of  late  years  the 
Americans,  ever  daring  in  their  wooden  contrivances,  have  run 
this  sort  of  scantling  bridge,  perched  on  the  rocks  (not  quite 
submerged  in  the  foam  of  the  Rapids),  on  to  the  verge  of  the 
Rail  itself,  so  that  amateurs  may  look  over  and  watch  these 
millions  of  tons  a minute  of  water  following  the  laws  of 
gravity.  Is  it  not  Sir  Charles  Lvell  who  says  these  samel 
Ralls  have  been  travelling  back  from  Lewistown  (seven  miles 
below)  for  these  last  thirty-seven  thousand  years  F But  they 
started  from  still  lower  levels  ; Insliallah,  Allah  Ackbar,  who 
knows  ? Who  can  tell  ? If  I got  into  a brown  study  on  this 
bewildering  point,  I was  recalled  to  smaller  matters  at  the 
cross  roads,  to  the  lower  falls  ferry,  near  a secluded  tavern, 
the  Pavilion ; here,  by  the  railway  side,  was  an  immense  pile 
of  luggage  in  charge  of  a gentleman’s  groom,  unmistakable  j 
cockade  and  all,  the  first  I have  seen  in  all  America. 

This  additional  load  was  piled  on,  and  we  were,  besides,; 
joined  by  two  well-dressed  ladies’  maids.  They  were,  indeed, 
ladies  themselves  here,  only  they  all  belonged,  it  turned  out, 
to  the  Governor- General  of  all  the  Canadas,  who  with  his 
lady  and  two  children  and  aide-de-camp  were  returning  to 
Toronto,  and  were  themselves  somewhat  near  us  on  the  road 
in  his  lordship’s  phaeton  and  on  horseback ; and  a very  de- 
lightful ride  they  must  have  enjoyed,  as  the  day  was  charming 
— one  of  those  few  and  far  between,  not  too  hot  nor  too  cold 
■ — the  horses  not  tormented  by  the  voracious  wood-flies,  first 
cousins  of  the  mosquitoes — all  nature  dressed  most  attractively 
in  a thousand  sunny  bright  colours  ; and,  as  to  art,  one  is  glad 
to  get  rid  of  it,  beyond  the  saddle  and  the  wheels ; nor  was  I 
sorry  for  once  at  the  pleasant  slowness  of  our  queer  set  out  in 
the  cars,  which  brought  us,  I thought,  all  too  soon  to  the  ter- 
minus on  the  hill  side,  at  Queenstown,  near  the  Brock  monu- 
ment, and  recent  grand  suspension-bridge  over  the  Niagara. 

I think  they  say  the  span  is  the  greatest  in  the  world ; 
shouldn’t  wonder.  But  I had  no  chance  of  going  to  it,  or 
stopping  at  all,  for  the  steamer,  lying  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  river,  at  the  Lewistown  wharf,  was  expected  across  to 
pick  us  up,  so  that  as  soon  as  we  halted  under  the  railway 
sheds  we  were  hurried  off  down  the  hill  to  embark. 

Like  all  the  other  places,  Queenstown  disappointed  me.  It 
seems  to  have  grown  very  little  these  last  twenty  years  ; it  is 
still  a mere  village,  w hile  Lewistown,  opposite,  has  increased 
tenfold,  and  is  now  a large  town.  It  lies  comparatively  low, 
while  the  bank  on  our  side  is  higher,  the  American  side  slop- 
ing away  more  to  the  river  from  the  rocks  above  the  town, 


L0KD  AND  LADY  ELGIN. 


89 


perhaps  a mile,  where  the  bridge  is  thrown  so  boldly  across. 
Both  towns  have  but  scanty  clearings,  or  farms  behind  them, 
but  are  framed  in  by  the  unbroken  forest,  the  river  rushing 
down  between  high  abrupt  banks.  The  idle  apathy  of  Canada 
I do  not  hear  accounted  for.  They  have  few  or  no  taxes ; the 
land,  and  wood,  and  water,  as  good,  with  every  chance  in  life 
equal  to  the  Americans.  Why  are  they  so  far  behind  ? I had 
a great  mind  to  have  asked  the  governor,  who  is  said  to  be 
clever  ; speaks  well,  ’tis  certain,  and  seems  to  have  no  sort  of 
nonsense  about  him.  But  we  shift  them  too  often ; and  at 
home  we  are  sad  ignoramuses.  Commend  me  to  our  colonies 
in  Downing- street ; there  lies  the  root  of  such  evils,  however 
they  may  be  denied  by  party  writers. 

As  I could  see  the  steamer  over  the  way  had  not  started,  I 
was  in  no  hurry  to  descend  the  ladders  to  the  wharf  below,  so 
rested  under  the  trees  of  one  of  the  villas  on  the  green  bank, 
and  presently  Lady  Elgin,  and  her  little  boy  and  girl — both 
fine  children — drove  up,  to  wait  under  the  shade,  not  far  from 
me.  Lord  Elgin,  Lord  Marc  Kerr,  his  aide-de-camp,  and 

little  Lady Bruce,  on  horseback  (his  daughter  rode  a 

pretty  pony);  now,  without  parade,  in  all  the  States  one  would 
look  in  vain  for  anything  so  stylish,  or  so  comfortable,  or  so 
complete,  as  this  whole  group.  How  sorry  I was  I could  not 
approach  them,  or  say  a word ; and  so,  I doubt  not,  missed 
much  pleasant  chat  they  bestowed  on  some  Canada  clergymen 
on  board.  But  I observed  his  lordship,  like  a man  of  the 
world,  went  about  the  deck  of  the  steamer  and  spoke  to  many 
people,  some  perhaps  as  much  strangers  as  myself. 

Together  with  the  horses  and  carriage,  there  was  some 
cargo  taken  on  the  deck,  mostly  flour  in  barrels,  I think : but 
already  all  the  bustle  of  trade  and  enterprise  in  bales  and 
boxes  has  comparatively  ceased.  The  steamer  was  smaller, 
less  complete,  less  ornamented,  less  commodious,  less  com- 
fortable— a paucity  of  everything  comparatively — and  they 
were  immensely  tedious  getting  the  things  on  board ; at  last 
we  were  off,  but  very  late  in  the  day,  and  the  captain  fearing 
a fog  at  night.  These  fogs  are  rather  prevalent  on  the  lakes 
and  river.  The  distance  is  forty  miles  across  to  Toronto.  The 
fare  six  shillings  or  seven  shillings  currency  of  Canada.  What 
confusion  of  currencies  here  and  through  the  States  ! 

One  word  on  this  nuisance.  The  best  way,  perhaps,  is  to 
load  yourself  with  sovereigns,  for  which  they  give  you,  by  Act 
of  Congress,  four  dollars  eighty -four  cents,  that  is,  sixteen 
cents,  or  eightpence  short  of  five  dollars.  It  is  worth  more, 
for  the  dollar  should  only  be  four  shillings  and  three  half- 
pence ; but  there  is  no  silver  in  the  States,  never  any  change; 
and  besides,  you  are  everywhere  puzzled  and  cheated  by  a 
parcel  of  dirty  bank-notes,  from  one  dollar  upwards,  and  from 


90 


CLEVEE  CUEEENCIES. 


a thousand  banks ; some,  far  off,  may  be  already  broke ; some 
breaking,  some  at  a heavy  discount ; indeed,  the  whole  of  the 
best  notes  are  at  a discount  out  of  their  own  State — often,  if 
beyond  the  town  or  county ! The  consequence  is,  that  these  < 
dirty  notes  (“  shin  plaisters”)  are  constantly  refused,  often  in 
ticklish  moments  when  you  are  in  a great  hurry;  or  you  are  ( 
told  (having  had  it  in  your  pocket  a day  or  two)  that  it  ain’t  . 
worth  a cent — bank  smashed ! This  thimble-rig  has  created  i 
another ; in  all  the  cities’  exchange  offices,  where  everybody  . 
is  shaved;  that  is,  they  take  your  notes  at  a discount,  giving  , 
you  better  ones  : ergo,  of  the  place  ; or  gold,  which  you  must  i 
pay  extra  for  ; or  silver,  which  you  must  pay  still  more  for  ! 

Gold  is  very  plentiful  since  California  has  opened  its  shop  ; 
but  silver  is  still  more  precious  ; people  cannot  by  any  means  j 
get  or  keep  small  change  ; one  sees  the  most  ludicrous  distress  > 
very  often — delays,  and  trottings  in  search  of  a quarter-dollar 
(a  shilling) — while  gold  eagles,  half-eagles,  and  quarters 
abound,  at  a premium ! In  this  the  Americans  are  sadly  too  , i 
’cute ; why  is  there  not  a.  United  States’  Bank,  guaranteed  by 
the  whole  Union,  such  as  our  Bank  of  England ! Perhaps  the  ' i 
whole  army  of  shavers  prevent  it,  now  their  trade  is  so 
thriving. 

Their  precious  ragged  notes  and  the  confusion  of  their  value 
cross  the  frontier,  and  help  the  needless  confusion  of  our  own  \ 
Canada  currency ; so  that  what  with  dollars,  pounds  sterling,  \ 
and  pounds  and  shillings  currency,  one  is  never  sure  of  what  ; 
is  to  pay,  or  how  to  pay  it ; it  is  ilways  “ about  so  and  so.”  I 
always  insisted  on  gold,  or  silver  for  gold  when  it  was  possible,  i 
and  never  took  a shin  plaister  or  applied  it  without  trembling.  1 
The.  sovereign  in  Canada  is  twenty-five  shillings  (with  abso-  ' • 
lutely  the  same  coin  as  at  home  !) 

While  in  the  bows  of  the  boat  looking  at  Lord  Elgin’s  h 
handsome  horses  among  the  crowd  of  deck  passengers  who 
generally  collect  beneath  the  wheel-house,  a quarrel  arose  be- 
tween two  gamblers  ; one,  an  Irishman,  threatened  the  other, 
an  American,  with  his  knife — on  which  the  American,  w ho 
had  been  much  the  most  silent  and  cool,  suddenly  drew  out  a 
knife  too,  and  rushed  at  his  antagonist ; for  an  instant  they 
stood  face  to  face  ; I thought  bloodshed  inevitable  ; but  the 
first,  finding  how  resolute  a fellow  he  had  to  deal  with,  lowered 
his  tone,  and  so  it  ended. 

As  we  proceeded  we  had  a good  deal  of  fog,  but  luckily  it 
cleared  away,  and  we  ran  into  the  wharf,  where  we  found 
other  steamers  and  lake  coasters  ; about  four  hours  crossing. 

Toronto  is  a larger  town  than  I expected  to  find  it ; some 
good  streets  (Yonge,  York,  and  King  streets  the  best),  with 
many  really  fine  brick  houses.  The  shops  are  but  so-so,  and 
the  suburbs  in  frame,  the  footpaths  everywhere  of  planks — 


SLEEPY  CANADIANS.  91 

making  t lie  walking  very  pleasant— the  streets  better  macadam- 
ised than  in  the  smaller  American  towns. 

The  houses  much  on  the  United  States’  plan ; verandahs 
and  green  open  blinds  to  the  windows.  I went  to  a quiet 
small  hotel  on  the  English  plan  (a  treat)  at  Ellahs,  where  I 
found  everything  comfortable.  I think  it  is  the  Army  House ; 
at  any  rate,  Lord  Marc  Kerr  breakfasted  there  next  morning. 

I found  him  very  pleasant  and  sociable.  This  was  my  first 
comfortable  breakfast  since  I left  Southampton.  I had  leisure 
not  to  choke  myself,  look  at  the  paper,  and  lounge  pleasantly. 

I see  the  same  miserable  cabals  going  on  about  the  ins  and 
outs  here  as  at  home ; only  here  we  are  in  small.  And  the 
honourable  Mr.  This  and  That  has  had  his  day ; and  now, 
shuffle  the  cards.  But,  my  dear  fellow-countrymen  in  the 
woods,  suppose  you  were  all  to  get  up  a little  earlier  ! 

"What  a morning  sloth  I find  here,  compared  with  the 
American  wide-awake  stir ! There  is  nobody  awake  here 
till  eight  or  nine  o’clock.  In  short,  they  ignore  old  Franklin 
and  poor  Richard  ; thence  the  out  of  tidy  repair  things  appear 
in ; and  yet  the  thrifty  Scotch  are  the  first  people  here  ; but 
we  fail  to  lure  our  surplus  population  this  way  for  want  of 
wiser  heads,  as  usual,  in  Downing-street,  or  indeed  any  heads 
at  all,  or  any  common-sense  direction. 

“ "What  is  it  to  me  ?”  as  the  breaksman  said  ; “ let  it  go  on 
till  July  or  eternity,  all  one  a hundred  years  hence.” 

I just  looked  in,  kindly  permitted,  at  the  Officers’  Club, 
where  all  was  quiet  and  gentlemanly ; but  your  gentlemanly 
quiet  (before  or  after  breakfast),  it  is  that  kills  here  in  the 
woods. 

I set  off  by  the  Highlander  (she  starts  from  Hamilton  and 
calls  here)  for  Montreal ; fare  (I  like  to  mention  exact  sums) 
32s.  sterling.  The  fellow  diddled  me  at  the  office  on  the 
wharf  I am  sure ; for  out  of  two  sovereigns  I only  got  7s.  Id. 
The  clerk  muttered  somethiug  about  7s.  9d. ; but  if  two 
sovereigns  is  50s.  currency,  whence  this  unaccountable  change? 
It  was  all  right,  perforce  ; I repeated  a Turkish  “ Who  knows, 
Inshallah!”  and  got  on  board. 

We  skirt  the  Canada  shore,  calling  at  many  towns — Port 
Hope,  Prescot,  and  other  villages  I forget ; the  next  morning 
we  got  to  Kingston,  the  largest  town  after  Toronto.  This 
was  our  great  naval  place  ; still  there  is  a dockyard  and  fort, 
and  many  steamers  are  seen  in  the  harbour,  which  takes  a 
deep  sweep  here  into  the  country  at  the  mouth  of  the  canal. 
Here  the  great  Ottawa  Canal  begins,  and  the  St.  Lawrence, 
leaving  the  lake,  speeds  on.  By  sunrise  we  were  threading 
the  exquisitely  beautiful  thousand  isles,  sparkling  in  their 
pellucid  waters  like  gems  ; what  would  we  give  for  a few  of 
these  sweet  miniature  islands  and  their  rocks  at  home ! How 


92 


DOWN  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE. 


the  crystal  stream  reflects  them  as  vividly  as  the  very  Tipper  j 
substance,  all  smooth  as  a mirror,  the  waves  following  our 
paddles,  and  sending  streaked  flashes  through  their  firs  and 
pine-trees  and  bright  foliage,  now  clothed  in  countless  hues  of 
crimson  and  gold.  The  effect  altogether  was  delightful;  one 
longed  to  linger  in  this  watery  Arcadia. 

Who  has  ever  counted  these  countless  islands  ? no  matter 
if  there  are  not  five  hundred,  or  not  a dozen — it  is  still  the 
same  thing  to  our  very  finite  purposes  or  feelings.  Nothing 
in  all  the  way  down  at  all  equals  this  part  of  the  St.  Law-  , i 
rence  for  its  startling  novelty,  though  its  beauties  arc  infinitely 
varied. 

Taking  a range  of  the  whole  country  hereabouts,  and  for 
hundreds  of  miles  before  and  behind,  it  is  one  great  forest  . 
flat,  with  the  banks  more  or  less  elevated  above  the  lakes  and 
rivers.  Hills  begin  as  we  approach  Montreal,  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  swell  to  mountains  as  we  approach  Quebec,  j 
growing  more  lofty  beyond  it — more  grand  and  picturesque. 

As  we  passed  these  enchanting  islands,  and  along  the  . ‘ 
various  rapids  of  this  river,  I thought  of  Moore’s  Canadian 
boat  song,  and  fain  would  hide  the  sad  reality  of  the  man  who 
charmed  so  many,  sunk  in  the  decrepitude  of  age — dying,  or 
dead,  in  his  little  cottage  at  Devizes.  And  so  ends  the 
poetry  and  prose  of  life  ! but  as  yesterday  he  was  the  flushed 
gay  young  fellow  “ in  life’s  young  dream,”  dancing  down 
these  very  waters — O qicam  cito  transit.  On  the  American  : 
side  we  called  at  Ogdensburg,  a growing  town,  near  the 
dividing  line ; one  of  the  new  rail  entrepots. 

These  boats  are  very  well  managed,  the  meals  tolerable,  ] 
and  included  in  the  fare.  The  next  feature  which  roused  us, 
after  a day  and  night’s  monotonous  steaming,  was  the  first 
rapid  of  moment — the  “ Longue  Sault.”  The  rush  down, 
and  the  tumultuous  waves  gave  us  a taste  of  what  the  early 
boatmen  on  the  St.  Lawrence  had  to  dread. 

The  steering  in  these  reaches  was  ticklish;  our  boat 
reeled  again,  lashed  on  all  sides — the  steam  taken  off  to  ease 
her  down,  only  just  keeping  way  enough  to  steer  by.  Our 
boat  drew  seven  and  a half  feet,  but  we  had  only  one  shock  • 
of  grounding  on  the  fiercest  of  these  rapids  (the  Cedars) ; 
instantly,  however,  dashed  off  by  the  following  "waves. 
Nobody  cared  about  it  except  the  captain,  who,  I dare  say, 
was  anxious  ; for  even  a detention  is  to  them  a serious  matter. 

At  this  spot  are  several  islands. 

On  our  side  opposite  the  rapids,  canals  (the  Ottawa,  St. 
Lawrence,  Leauharnois)  and  locks  have  been  constructed  to 
pass  them,  for  the  upward  voyage. 

It  appears  we  were  afraid  of  the  last  great  rapid  of 
“ Lachine ,”  within  nine  miles  of  Montreal.  The  water  being 


MONTREAL — APPEARANCES. 


93 


too  low — and  besides  it  was  night — so  we  were  landed  at  the 
railway  station  at  Lachine,  and  got  into  the  carriages  ; bnt  it 
was  already  dark,  so  that  I saw  nothing  of  this  approach  to 
the  city. 

Long  and  even  good  descriptions  of  towns  and  countries  is 
quite  in  vain  to  give  one  any  idea  of  them.  I find  Montreal 
a totally  different  town  from  what  I imagined,  by  the  help  of 
fifty  descriptions. 

It  lies  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  and  seems  to  have 
nothing  French  about  it ! It  may  be  really  on  an  island  in 
fact,  but  of  this,  like  New  York  and  other  river  and  creek 
formed  islands,  nothing  appears.  A ridge  of  hills  runs  at  the 
back  of  the  town  a mile  off,  “Mont  Loyal,”  covered  by 
woods,  up  which  I scrambled  (taking  the  bidl  by  the  horns) 
just  where  one  M‘Tavish  has  his  curious  tomb,  or  mausoleum, 
on  the  ascent,  buried  doubly,  in  the  woods,  a field  beyond  the 
M'G-ill  College,  where  M'Tavish’s  large  (haunted)  house 
stands,  shut  up  and  going  to  ruin,  near  the  college.  From 
tliis  mount  the  view  over  the  town,  across  the  river  to  the 
distant  mountains  on  the  American  frontier,  is  magnificent. 
The  town  itself  is  full  of  good  houses,  the  cathedral,  large 
chinches,  and  hotels  ; but  not  one  good  street ; the  shops, 
too,  very  inferior  to  what  one  might  expect. 

Neither  the  French  brilliance,  thrift,  and  industry,  nor  the 
American  go-ahead  breadth  and  bustle,  but  quite  as  much 
careless  slovenliness  ; except  at  the  water-side,  all  seems 
sleepy  indolence,  want  of  spirit,  care,  and  enterprise  in 
everything  which  meets  the  eye  ! The  hotels,  however,  are 
quite  American.  I went  to  the  Ottawa.  The  footways  in 
some  of  the  streets  and  all  the  suburbs  are  of  plank,  and 
encourage  walking  about. 

Like  all  Canadian  cities,  Montreal  has  immense  capabilities 
for  spreading,  for  improving.  I cannot  judge  of  what  they 
have  been  about  these  last  twenty  or  thirty  years — doubtless 
much  improved ; but  all  this  is  a matter  of  comparison, 
and  I must  suppose  things  very  poor  and  very  indifferent 
then. 

Without  troubling  one’s  head  about  statistics  or  reports, 
to  judge  of  any  town  or  city,  as  to  its  wealth  and  prosperity, 
its  present  go-ahead  enterprise,  one  has  but  to  walk  about 
the  streets  and  wharves,  look  at  the  shops  and  advertise- 
ments, study  the  theatres,  concert-rooms,  societies,  meetings, 
lectures,  &c.  Things  which  lie  on  the  very  surface.  All 
this  here,  and  everywhere  in  Canada,  I am  sorry  to  say,  shows 
veiy  little  signs  of  that  vigorous  life  one  sees  in  the  United 
States. 

The  Miss  Herrons  and  a Sir  William  Don  are  playing  at 
the  small  theatres  to  thin  houses,  and  some  nigger  warblers 


94 


HUEET  ON  TO  QUEBEC. 


scrape  a scanty  return.  Tlic  shops  are  very  inferior,  and  are 
evidently  doing  very  little  business.  There  is,  there  must  be, 
some  trade  at  the  river-side,  if  only  in  upward  emigrants, 
and  stores  for  the  settled  and  settling  country  west ; but 
neither  the  steamers  nor  the  river  craft  show  the  build,  the 
size,  nor  the  activity  one  could  wish.  The  wharves  are  good, 
however,  and  there  is  a fair  show  along  the  river  face  of 
some  trade ; but,  as  I say,  these  things  are  matter  of  com- 
parison, and  in  all  America  they  are  ever  against  us ; in 
vigour,  activity,  and  that  broad  careless  plenty,  which  covers, 
it  may  be,  a tliousand  faults  of  mind,  manner,  and  taste,  in 
the  States. 

They  are  building  a row  of  large  houses  on  the  site  of  the 
Senate-house,  burned  in  the  last  rising  against  government ; 
and  they  must  for  their  pains  do  without  its  patronage,  as  its 
seat  is  now  shifted  back  to  Quebec  ; where  I must  betake 
myself  per  steamer,  ignorant  of  a thousand  interesting  things 
here  and  about  this  fine  country  ; but  the  weather  threatens, 
rain  sets  in,  doubtful,  from  the  sharpness  of  the  air,  whether 
it  wont  turn  to  snow.  I go  on  board  the  Crescent  in  the 
evening,  another  (the  mail  steamer)  starting  at  the  same  time 
for  Quebec,  fare  7s.  Cd. 

It  had  rained  all  day,  but  now  the  dense  clouds  rose  in 
golden-fringed  curtains,  cheering  us  by  a most  glorious  sun- 
set, just  as  we  cleared  the  pretty  island  which  lies  opposite 
the  city. 

How  exquisitely  grand  are  these  arched  liftings  of  the 
clouds,  showing  the  azure  heavens  beneath  their  own  golden, 
crimson,  purple  folds ! A brisk  breeze  from  the  west  helped 
us  along  bravely. 

The  river  opposite  the  city  is  very  broad,  has  sand-banks 
and  rapids  ; but  with  depth  enough  for  the  boats  at  the  quays 
all  along  its  face,  even  when  the  river  is  rather  low,  as  it  is 
this  autumn. 

A dark  night  shut  out  both  banks.  "We  called  at  Sorel, 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Richelieu,  St.  Anne’s,  St.  Croix,  and  the 
Three  Rivers,  where  we  meet  the  flood  tide ; but  the  stream 
is  no  longer  so  swift  after  leaving  Montreal,  and  of  course  no 
more  rapids. 

In  the  morning  we  saw  something  of  the  increasing  boldness 
and  beauty  of  the  landscape  on  both  sides  of  the  river  as  we 
approached  Quebec,  its  shipping,  timber-rafts,  and  timber- 
yards.  We  were  at  the  very  dirty,  muddy  wharves  beside 
the  lower  town  by  breakfast  time.  The  mail  boat  got  in  a 
little  before  us;  but  why  do  these  boats  persist  in  only 
running  at  night.  With  the  citadel  towering  above  us  on  the 
end  of  the  heights,  where  they  descend  to  the  mouth  of  the 
St.  Charles  River ; but  I must  not,  cannot  describe,  it  has 


wolfe’s  monument. 


95 


been  done  too  often,  and  conveys  nothing.  I packed  myself 
in  one  of  those  truly  French  caleches,  a sort  of  cab  (like  our 
own  original  ones),  and  we  scrambled  up  the  steep  streets  to 
the  Swords  Hotel,  on  the  American  plan. 

They  were  excavating  the  rock  beside  them,  and  building  a 
wing  which  is  to  swallow  up  the  original  house. 

At  Quebec  one  thinks  of  nothing  but  Wolfe,  Montcalm, 
and  the  plains  of  Abraham  ; heroes  and  events  out  of  sight, 
and  almost  out  of  mind  now-a-days.  I saw  nothing  but  a 
most  egregiously  dirty,  crooked,  up-and-down-hill,  muddy, 
half-wood  paved  town.  I heard  French  spoken  indeed,  but 
nothing  was  French,  except,  methinks,  the  cabs  and  drivers. 
The  weather,  which  helps  or  spoils  all,  had  grown  terrific, 
now  and  then  an  hour’s  sunshine,  and  then  I ran  down  to  the 
platform,  a boarded  space  on  the  site  of  the  old  chateau, 
which  is  the  parade  of  the  gentry,  overlooking  the  lower  part 
of  the  town. 

Among  the  half  dozen  there  I saw  Colonel  Bruce  and  his 
lady.  They  had  just  come  and  awraited  the  arrival  of  his 
brother.  The  rival  hotel  to  the  Swords,  Bussell’s,  was  engaged 
for  him ; for  I believe  there  is  no  government-house  that  will 
do  now. 

They  were  hard  at  work  at  a new  Senate-house,  which 
already  shone  brightly  with  its  tin  roof.  This  is  a town  of 
tin  roofs  ; there  is  a good  deal  of  this  shining  too  at  Montreal: 
how  beautifully  bright  it  keeps  ! 

I shall  ask  no  questions.  There  is  no  theatre  open,  no 
concert,  no  anything  in  the  amusing  way,  and  only  two  so-so 
hotels — the  one  empty.  The  shops  very  so-so ; the  streets 
ditto,  even  the  best.  In  the  working  world  all  seems  Irish, 
with  a French  cross.  There  is  some  stir  in  the  St.  Boche 
suburb  on  the  St.  Charles’s  side,  and  generally  all  round  by 
the  water-side,  and  for  a mile  up  the  river  among  the  timber- 
yards,  but  it  is  of  the  salt  cod  and  bacon  sort ; and  in  grog 
shops  and  low  taverns,  which,  indeed,  have  far  too  much 
activity.  The  whole  town  is  full  of  these  taverns,  but  only 
one  hotel  and  a half — for  the  owner  of  the  one  let  to  his 
lordship,  I hear,  intends  to  set  up  another  to  accommodate 
his  customers. 

I one  day  walked  out  to  the  plains  of  Abraham,  on  the 
road  tlirough  the  fortifications  at  the  St.  Louis  gate ; they 
are  about  a mile  beyond  the  citadel,  on  the  banks  of  the  river. 
Villas  and  small  houses  here  and  there,  and  inclosures,  now 
occupy  these  plains.  To  the  left  of  the  road  near  the  turn- 
pike-gate stands  the  small  column  erected  on  the  spot  wThere 
Wolfe  fell ; a poor  affair,  unworthy  of  the  man  and  the  occa- 
sion. Even  this  neglected,  the  railing  rusted  and  broken,  and 
all  its  whereabout  made  vulgar  by  the  wayside  taverns  and 


96 


QUEBEC  AND  ITS  ENTIEONS. 


slovenly  board-houses  and  fences.  The  romance  and  glory  of 
the  spot  effectually  spoiled.  A little  beyond  it,  in  the  only 
open  space,  is  the  race-course. 

Walking  about  the  town  I find  the  streets  full  of  holes, 
the  wharves  out  of  repair  in  the  same  way,  all  dirt  and  neg- 
lect ; some  coal  unloading,  some  timber  loading,  a sprinkling 
of  ships  at  anchor,  or  at  the  timber-yards ; but  the  general 
impression  given  is  far  from  activity  or  enterprise,  care  or 
economy  of  any  sort.  The  very  shops  are  rough,  mean,  and 
slovenly,  and  yet  here  the  leading  people  are  Scotch — but 
grumbling  at  free-trade.  A few  starved  triumphal  green 
arches  were  put  up  to  honour  the  entry  of  the  Governor- 
General.  The  streets  are  full  of  these  one-horse  caleches 
driving  about  empty,  as  if  for  amusement.  I got  into  one 
to  snatch  a look  at  the  falls  of  Montmorency ; for  nothing 
save  the  mountains,  the  water,  and  the  woods  is  worth  looking  ; 
at.  We  drove  through  the  mud  of  St.  Uoche  over  a rickety 
wooden  bridge  across  the  St.  Charles,  where  we  paid  6d.  to 
cross ; then  for  eight  miles  along  a kind  of  continued  rows 
of  small  houses,  by  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence  to  where 
the  Orleans  Island  divides  the  river.  Here  the  Montmo- 
rency joins  it,  rushing  over  its  rocky,  romantic  bed,  falling 
nearly  300  feet.  Leaving  the  cab,  I got  down  the  bank 
among  the  firs,  and  down  a ladder  to  where  the  timbers  of  a 
mill-race  help  one  to  get  fairly  down  to  this  grand  rushing  of 
the  waters.  The  basin  and  glen  below  is,  indeed,  sublime. 
Heavy  rains  had  made  the  river  yellowish,  but  it  added  force 
to  the  fall. 

I next  day  crossed  the  river  in  one  of  the  steam-ferry 
boats  to  Point  Levee,  a straggling  sort  of  village,  with  some 
few  wharves,  where  ships  are  ioaded  occasionally.  But  here, 
too,  all  was  idle  neglect,  few  or  no  sign3  of  anything  doing, 
the  road  in  mud-holes,  and  not  even  a foot  pavement  attempted ; ; 
but  I turned  my  eyes  to  the  city,  the  citadel,  the  river,  and 
the  distant  mountains,  the  picture  thus  is  superb  ; indeed, 
this  is,  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  altogether  the  most  beautiful 
spot ; the  great  tameness  of  the  country  upwards  is  here 
amply  made  up  for.  Time  presses,  and  if  not,  space  does. 

1 must  cut  all  this  short,  and  retrace  my  steps  in  one  of  the 
passage  steamers,  the  Jenny  Lind,  a compact,  neat  boat. 
They  all  carry  deck  loads.  Coming  down  we  had  cattle, 
tobacco,  and  other  bales  and  barrels ; but  I cannot  reconcile 
myself  to  this  constant  steaming  at  night. 

We  started  at  sunset,  and  with  the  rival  mail  boat,  the 
Quebec,  which  headed  us  very  little  before  it  grew  dark,  we 
went  to  tea,  and  all  interest  in  the  river  and  country  was 
shut  out.  The  fare  up  and  down  from  Montreal  is  from  two 
to  three  dollars,  including  tea,  distance  170  miles.  Arrived 


SCENES  IN  NEW  ENGLAND. 


97 


next  morning  at  Montreal,  I went  on  board  a temporary  boat 
to  La  Prairie  village,  the  Prince  Albert,  regular  boat,  having 
struck  and  sunk  on  one  of  the  sand-banks  in  sight.  By  this 
line  the  fare  through  to  Boston  is  eight  dollars.  We  ran 
alongside  the  wrecked  boat,  and  helped  them  a little  in  trying 
to  raise  her — doubtful — and  so  left  them. 

At  La  Prairie,  some  miles  up  the  river,  we  were  transferred 
to  the  railway  to  Louse’s  Point  at  the  head  of  Lake  Cham- 
plain, to  the  frontier  custom-house,  where,  undisturbed  by 
officials,  we  went  straight  on  board  a fine  steamer,  the  White- 
hall, which  plies  on  the  lake  to  Burlington,  in  Vermont, 
where  we  arrived  about  midnight.  The  country  is  fiat  to 
the  head  of  the  lake  and  its  shores  half  its  length,  but  moun- 
tains are  seen  in  the  horizon,  and  the  green  mountain  range 
in  the  east  (Vermont  side)  already  capped  by  snow ; indeed, 
we  had  a sharp  frost  in  the  night  (late  in  October).  Here, 
too,  I had  occasion  to  observe  how  much  better  our  fare  was 
on  board  the  boat  where  we  dined,  than  at  the  hotel ; one 
of  many  large  ones,  iu  this  go-ahead  thriving  town,  where 
the  railroad  has  two  branches  ; to  Boston  by  Bellows  Falls, 
where  the  Connecticut  river  is  crossed,  and  to  the  east,  to 
the  White  mountains,  near  the  diggings  of  our  Wenliam 
Lake  ice. 

What  a charm  there  is  in  the  bright  morning  sun — I walked 
about  the  town  speculating  on  its  lots  and  endless  capabilities 
— its  cuttings,  its  buildings  going  on  with  activity,  while  the 
milkmen,  in  their  light  one-horse  wagons,  were  ringing  their 
bells  and  serving  their  customers.  This  will  be  a large  rich 
city  before  long ; its  site,  too,  on  the  lake,  is  very  happily 
chosen.  Our  boat  having  lauded  us,  went  on  down  the  lake 
to  Whitehall,  from  whence  other  railways  run  to  Saratoga 
and  iNew  York,  and  places  in  Hew  England,  forming  links 
to  all  the  larger  towns  on  to  Hewhaven. 

We  start  again  through  a pretty  hilly  romantic  grazing 
country.  The  Hew  England  farms  are  generally  worn  out, 
but  the  meadows  and  streams  in  the  small  valleys  have  a 
pleasing  look.  We  pass  many  factories  near  the  towns. 
Oxen,  I see,  are  much  used : all  bears  the  stamp  of  a closep 
thrift  and  economy  (as  with  ourselves)  than  in  the  south-west 
of  the  Union. 

At  every  station  lots  of  well-dressed  young  men  and  women 
got  into  the  cars,  all  talking  very  loud,  for  everybody’s 
benefit,  of  their  small  domestic  affairs  and  arrangements. 
One  bevy  of  these  smart  rustic  damsels  at  Middleburg 
jumped  in,  sat  themselves  down  in  the  chairs,  and  held  flir- 
tations at  the  windows  with  their  beaux,  who  handed  them  in 
love  and  lollypops,  which  they  sucked  with  great  gusto  ; but 
this  leasing  intimacy  was  not  to  be  encroached  on  by 

H 


AN  ABRUPT  TRANSITION. 


98 

strangers  nohow,  I guess  not.  One  unhappy  wight  was 
repulsed,  who  addressed  one  of  them  in  the  car  thus : 

Gent. — Well,  how  do  you  do,  miss  ? 

Miss. — Oh,  my!  how  do  you  do?  Well,  but  you  ain’t 
Mr. ? 

Gent. — I guess  I know  you  ; you  mind  I put  you  down— 
at — you  are  Miss;  Mrs.  Smith,  do  tell? 

Miss. — Nohow;  now  I. see,  I don’t  know  you;  no,  no,  sir; 

I don’t  think  I know  you ; no,  sir,  I don’t  nohow ; no,  sir. 
(She  looks  at  her  younq  friends,  and  all  hurst  out  in  a general 
laugh.) 

Gent.  ( not  much  put  out). — Well,  miss,  excuse  me. 

Miss. — No,  sir;  you  may  go.  I don’t  know  you  now. 
(Another  general  titter.) 

Cut  short  by  the  whistle  to  start,  when  most  of  these 
young  giddy  things  jumped  up  and  left  the  car,  only  come  in 
to  keep  their  friends  company. 

Bellows  Falls  is  a pretty  spot,  where  we  dined.  At  Fitch- 
burg, a large  town  approaching  Boston,  the  conductors  tried 
on  a little  knaverjq  I think.  One  sets  out  only  with  a strip  1 1 
of  paper  in  divisions,  bits  of  which  are  plucked  off  as  one 
advances,  and  lately  exchanged  for  small  cards.  My  last  was 
taken,  marked  Boston,  and  a wrong  one  given  me  ; I couldn’t 
at  all  judge  right  or  wrong;  a new  conductor  now  insisted  . 
on  another,  the  Boston  one,  and  tried  hard  to  make  me  pay 
extra,  hut  as  I knew  I had  paid  on  to  Boston,  I was  equally 
obstinate ; a reference  to  the  office  and  my  word  of  honour 
settled  it,  hut  such  mistakes  might  end  very  unpleasantly. 


CHAPTEK  VII. 

DOWN  THE  OHIO. 

HIGH  PRESSURE  STEAM-BOATS — CINCINNATI. 

The  weather  has  suddenly  become  so  cold,  though  the  sun 
shines  brightly,  that  the  snow  drifted  in  the  furrows  of  the 
fields  sets  it  at  defiance.  I have  as  abruptly  skipped  from 
within  thirty  miles  of  Boston  to  the  station  of  the  great 
Western  Railway  in  Philadelphia;  and  while  the  mules  are 
putting  to  the  cars  to  run  them  out  High-street  westward  1 1 
over  the  Schuylkill  (where  the  engines  are  waiting  on  the  > 
opposite  bank),  take  my  seat,  after  trying  in  vain  to  soften  i 
the  rigidity  of  the  baggage  man,  who  had  seized  on  my  small 
carpet-bag,  and  insisted  on  its  keeping  my  trunk  company. 
This  dodge  I might  have  dodged  by  not  letting  it  out  of  my 
hand  at  all  while  paying  my  fare,  (eleven  dollars  to  Pittsburg), 
but  I am  for  ever  (all  through  a long  life !)  making  mistakes, 
which  I find  out  when  it  is  too  late. 


RAILWAY  TO  THE  OHIO. 


99 


Many  younger  citizens  were  up  to  tliis,  and  took  tlieir 
bags  silly'  inside  in  spite  of  there  being  no  room  contemplated 
anywhere,  above  or  below,  for  anything  larger  than  a mon- 
strous reticule,  or  lady’s  carpet-bag,  which  are,  in  the  States, 
made  very  pretty — of  velvet,  silk,  embossed  leather,  &c.,  and 
in  very  gay,  bright  patterns.  The  engines  put  to,  away  we 
go  to  the  west — our  track  at  starting,  along  the  right  bank  of 
the  Schuylkill,  striking  off  at  the  upper  ferry — opposite  Pratt’s 
and  the  waterworks.  A little  above,  I got  a glimpse  of 
Solitude,  the  seat  of  General  Cadwallader,  where  once,  far 
back,  “ in  life’s  young  dream,”  I passed  many  a day  of  pure 
delight  with  a revered  friend,  who  then  owned  and  gave  its 
appropriate  name  to  this  sweet  spot.  Gone  is  that  friend, 
and  my  beloved  “ Solitude  ” has  grown  a large  house — the 
scene  below  on  the  river  quite  changed — no  harm  in  the 
useful  world ; but  one  grows  more  and  more  solitary  in  the 
busy  hum  of  men — new  faces,  new  generations ! The  old 
covered  wonderful  wooden  bridge,  of  from  three  to  four  hun- 
dred feet  span  from  shore  to  shore,  is  gone  too — replaced  by 
the  present  iron  suspension  one  ; the  former  only  recollected, 
it  may  be,  by  the  old,  and  never  heard  of  by  the  young ! 

And  how  do  one’s  remaining  years  fly  by  at  railroad  pace ! 
To  put  on  the  break  a little,  I am  now  in  these  very  cars  ; to 
throw  a few  novel  incidents  into  the  passing  year’s  monotony ! 
not  to  stagnate  near  Hyde  Park  ; no,  not  willingly  in  a Bel- 
gravia ; not  in  a Pimlico  palace.  Enough;  I have  got  for  my 
sins  into  the  too  close  vicinity  of  a bunch  of  fast  gents,  who 
are  chewing  the  weed,  et  cater  a,  as  Lady  E.  S.  Worthy  says, 
with  a- vigour  which  makes  one  shudder. 

Twenty  miles  through  a tolerably  well  cultivated  country, 
the  woods  and  clearings  more  or  less  frequent,  brings  us  to 
the  “ Great  Valley,”  across  which,  at  Downing’s  Town,  runs 
the  Brandywine  Creek,  famous  in  the  old  war  for  a fierce 
battle — at  present,  for  turning  the  water  wheels  of  innumer- 
able grist  mills  along  its  course,  and  at  Wilmington,  where  it 
joins  the  Delaware  (passing  Westchester  on  its  way),  running 
through  beautiful  woods  and  glens.  Often  as  a boy,  barefooted, 

. with  my  trousers  tucked  up,  have  I passed  the  day  bobbing 
for  eels,  in  spots  where  it  rushes  over  its  rocky  bed  in  the 
freshets ; these  torrents  of  rain,  the  brief  accompaniment  of 
the  awful  thunder-gusts  of  American  summers,  making  its 
clear  stream  muddy,  and  sweeping  the  eels  down  from  the 
more  level  banks.  In  body  of  water  it  equals  the  Isis  at 
Oxford. 

This  finely  cultivated  valley  was  settled  by  the  Germans  : 
they  are  the  chief  people  to  this  day,  and  their  farms  the 
pattern  farms  to  the  whole  State.  The  economy  of  these 
farms,  in  a double  sense,  would  be  well  to  follow  in  some 
H 2 


100  FARMING  IN  PENNSYLVANIA. 

things,  even  in  England ; particularly  in  tlieir  ample  barns, 
large  enough  to  contain  their  whole  crops  under  one  roof, 
avoiding  our  more  clumsy,  inefficient  stacks.  Under  all  this  < 
vast  mass  of  wheat,  oats,  barley,  rye,  on  one  side  of  the  barn 
floor,  and  hay  and  straw  on  the  other,  all  their  numerous 
cattle  are  warmly  housed  in  winter,  and  coolly  in  the  hot  sum- 
mers, when  wanted.  Indian  corn  cribs  rim  along  and  over- 
hang the  south  side  of  every  barn,  bursting  with  its  golden 
plenty,  and  loved  of  all  four -legged  and  two-legged  animals, 
including  man.  Oh,  sweet,  beneficent,  pure,  wholesome 
grain ! how  does  one  bless  God  for  sending  it  on  earth,  a 
standmg  miracle  of  Thy  care  and  goodness  ! with  the  cocoa- 
nut  palm  for  the  hotter  climes,  conspicuous. 

I wish  we  would  take  to  it  more  in  England  ; it  is  so  very 
good,  so  very  plentiful  and  cheap,  so  very  sweet  and  nutri- 
tious ; of  this  was  the  unleavened  bread ! it  is  made  in  a 
minute.  As  mush  (the  polenta  of  Italy),  it  is  eaten  all  over 
America ; and  how  superior  to  oaten  porridge.  It  is  made, 
too,  into  cakes,  bread,  pies,  in  infinite  variety.  Horses  and 
cattle  like  nothing  so  well ; ground  rough  and  mixed  with  cut 
straw,  or  thrown  in  their  cribs  in  the  cob.  The  grain  is  the 
favoured  food  of  the  feathered  creation ; ground  and  mixed 
in  cold  water  it  fattens  poultry,  pigs,  &c.,  quicker  than  any 
other  grain. 

The  meal,  if  kilnhlried,  keeps  very  well,  and  we  might  have 
it  in  any  quantity;  but,  with  ourselves,  the  difficulty  is  to 
create  a taste  for  it ! I brought  some  home  with  me,  and  I 
insist  on  having  a little  mush  now  and  then  (cut  in  slices, 
when  cold,  and  fried)  for  breakfast ! but  alas ! one  or  two 
men  I tried  it  on,  have  but  d — d it  with  faint  praise  ! Heed 
one  wonder  at  the  Swiss  or  Prussians  preferring  their  own 
coarse  black  bread  ? But  I shall  never  get  out  of  the  “ Great 
Valley.” 

We  skirted  its  southern  hilly  borders  of  woods.  I looked 
for  Eanstoclc’s  Tavern  (the  General  Paoli),  a serious,  steady, 
thrifty  man,  grown  rich  more  by  his  fine  farm  than  his 
brandy,  wine,  or  cider.  I saw  him — his  thin,  placid  face  and 
kind  greeting — in  my  mind’s  eye,  for  he,  nay,  his  very  chil-  . 
dren  (daughters)  are  gone,  and  the  funny  old  ostler,  who 
used  to  give  my  pony  jin  a bite  of  hay,  gone.  I was  rather  glad 
that  we  flew  by,  and  cut  short  reminiscent  dreamy  repinings. 
All  this  country  is  either  High  or  Low  Dutch — at  least  their 
descendants,  and  Dutch  or  German  is  their  domestic  vernacular. 
They  used  to  speak  English  unwillingly  and  badly. 

On  a railway  one  can  see  very  little  of  a country,  but  it 
struck  me  there  was  less  neatness  in  the  farms  and  farming 
than  formerly,  and  certainly,  in  the  whole  length  and  breadth 
of  this  valley  (ten  or  twelve  miles  by  five  or  six),  the  home- 


LANCASTER  AND  FACTORIES. 


101 


steads  are  not  more  numerous,  nor  any  of  tlie  surrounding 
moods  more  cleared : but  tliese  very  moods  have  become 
more  valuable.  The  surrounding  hills,  too,  being  of  limestone, 
is  one  source  of  wealth,  to  build  and  to  burn  for  lime,  used 
everywhere  as  a manure. 

I find  a great  difference  in  the  comfort  of  the  cars  ; this  set 
is  very  shabby  and  bad.  The  stove  in  the  middle  only  heats 
the  fern  passengers  in  its  vicinity,  mhile  all  the  rest  may  freeze, 
as  the  doors  and  mindoms  are  constantly  thromn  open  by  the 
conductors  or  passengers,  mho  amuse  themselves  travelling 
backmards  and  formards  through  all  the  string  of  cars, 
gossiping. 

Lancaster,  sixty  miles  from  Philadelphia,  is  a fine  large 
thriving  tomn — slow  and  sure,  quite  German,  mith  a good 
many  Quakers.  The  country  round  is  pleasingly  undulated, 
and  very  highly  cultivated;  if  anything,  rather  too  much 
cleared  of  mood,  though  coal  begins  to  be  used  as  a cheaper 
fuel  in  all  American  tomns  already. 

Hereabouts,  and  elsewhere,  I have  observed  attempts  at 
cotton  factories,  encouraged  by  the  high  tariffs,  to  shut  Eng- 
land out,  but  they  rarely  succeed  ; many  are  shut  up.  Even 
at  Lowell  it  languishes.  The  reason  is  obvious  enough  ; hands 
are  not  to  be  had  except  at  great  mages,  and  even  then  it  is 
very  difficult  to  keep  up  an  essential  subordination.  Still,  on 
the  whole,  they  do  increase,  particularly  their  iron-works  and 
foundries  for  stoves  and  steam-engines,  for  which  there  is  a 
constant  great  demand. 

An  apology  for  a turnpike  road  runs  from  Philadelphia  to 
Lancaster,  on  which  forty  years  ago  were  seen  the  Conostoga 
wagons  of  eight  horses  each,  two  abreast,  famous  for  their 
size  and  the  careful  economy  of  the  teams  and  their  appoint- 
ments. These  wagons  supplied  the  interior  of  the  State  as  far 
as  Harrisburg,  the  capital,  on  the  Susquehanna ; but,  like 
ourselves,  the  railways  have  upset  all  the  old  slow  convey- 
ances. I looked  in  vain  for  a Conostoga  wagon,  though  I dare 
say  they  still  exist  on  those  tracks  of  this  vast  State  remote 
from  the  railway  stations,  on  their  rough  primitive  roads,  and 
through  hundreds  of  miles  of  still  virgin  forests. 

Some  distance  beyond  Lancaster,  the  railway  skirting  or 
running  through  a wild  woody  country,  we  suddenly  came 
upon  the  steep  banks  of  a considerable  river,  and  crossed  a 
very  bold  and  feeble  wooden  bridge,  evidently  not  a bit  stronger 
than  could  be  helped,  with  no  sort  of  rail  or  parapet — all 
nothing,  when  one  gets  used  to  it.  We  passed  many  such 
beyond  the  capital,  approaching  the  spurs  of  the  mountains. 

The  view  across  the  river  to  the  westward,  coming  in  on 
the  Susquehanna,  is  beautiful ; a grand  smiling  valley,  in 
which  Harrisburg  rejoices.  One  cannot  imagine  a finer  site  ; 


102 


HARRISBURG — THE  CAPITAL. 


but  even  here  I overbeard  conversations  about  unhealthiness ! 
One  is  puzzled  to  account  for  this  mysterious  miasma,  which 
seems  to  take  possession  of  all  the  finest,  most  habitable  spots ; 
and  yet  here  is  a bold,  rocky,  very  open  country : hills  and 
dales  in  profusion  on  every  side  ; rocks  of  limestone  and  slate 
breaking  out  on  the  banks, the  woods,  and  in  the  very  meadows,  t 

We  remained  but  a few  minutes  in  the  suburbs  of  the  town 
at  the  station  to  change  carriages  (for  a better  set),  so  that  I 
saw  little  of  it.  It  is  a large  place,  but  not  increasing  rapidly. 
The  governor  and  assembly  of  any  one  State  seem  to  have  very 
little  influence  in  any  of  the  small  quiet  United  States  seats  of 
government.  Since  this  railway,  however,  they  are  going 
a-head ; and  paper,  iron,  and  tiu  factories  increase,  if  1 can 
at  all  judge  by  the  various  tall  chimneys  I saw  smoking. 

Northward,  among  these  romantic  hills, on  the  upper  branches 
of  this  noble  stream,  lies  Campbell’s  “Wyoming,”  One  might 
look  in  vain  for  such  a spot  as  he  has  drawn  it ; indeed, 
for  the  essential  truth  and  vigour  of  such  tales,  the  poet  should 
himself  have  walked  these  woods,  and  have  witnessed  the  fives  . s 
of  the  Indians  and  the  primitive  settlers. 

Before  I quit  this  part  of  the  State,  a word  apropos  of  the 
excellent  economy  of  their  barns,  their  farm-yards,  where 
their  cattle  luxuriate  in  the  severe  winters  in  the  sun  up  to 
their  knees  in  straw,  with  fodder  scattered  about  for  their 
mid-day’s  amusement — that  is,  the  toppings  and  strippings  of 
the  corn-stalks,  which  growing  from  eight  to  twelve  feet  high, 
sends  out  its  beautiful  and  vigorous  leaves  by  the  yard ; these  * 
and  the  stalk,  when  dried,  form  excellent  food ; indeed,  the 
stalk  when  in  its  full  sap  and  vigour  is  as  juicy  and  as  sweet  , 
as  the  sugar-cane,  which  it  a good  deal  resembles,  and  not  a 
doubt  would  make  sugar  profitably,  if  the  corn  itself  were  not 
still  better  and  more  solidly  profitable.  This  is  called  fodder 
when  dried,  and  in  the  south  is  more  relied  on  to  feed  their 
cattle,  where  grass  and  hay  is  more  scarce. 

Thus  on  the  sunny  side  of  these  immense  stone  barns  is  the 
warm  parlour,  in  common  for  the  whole  farm  stock : cattle, 
horses,  sheep,  pigs,  and  poultry,  all  in  a state  of  delightful 
familiarity;  the  cocks  and  hens  perched  on  the  cows’  backs  • 
occasionally,  or  feeding  under  their  feet,  all  enjoying  them- 
selves. One  might  indeed  call  it  a really  “happy  family,” 
had  not  that  pleasant  designation  become  so  odious  from  the 
specimens  in  a wire  cage  which  still  takes  up  its  stand  at  our 
National  Gallery! 

But  there  is  a broadcast  plenty,  a freeness  from  want  or 
hunger  both  for  man  and  beast,  which  makes  up  the  chief 
charm  of  this  country  fife,  which,  joined  to  a wise  prudence, 
albeit  quite  animal,  and  excessively  dull  in-doors  and  out, 
makes  great  part  of  Pennsylvania  a good  compound  Dutch 


ECONOMY  OF  THE  COTTNTBY. 


103 


and  Quaker  Arcadia.  Not  but  that  they  have  tlieir  gay 
“ frolics”  occasionally:  their  “ quiltings,”  their  “ apple-butter 
stirrings,”  and  “ corn-husking”  frolics,  in  autumn  and  winter, 
when  all  the  valley  or  neighbourhoods  meet  for  five  miles 
round,  and  feast  and  laugh,  and  “ bestow  their  tediousness,” 
and  “ don’t  go  home  till  morning.”  On  these  occasions  occur 
those  “ bundlings”  we  have  heard  of. 

But  what  is  most  to  be  admired  in  the  true  American  farm- 
ing, is  the  perfect  knowledge  of  grandfather,  father,  and  sons 
(for  hired  servants  are  very  rare),  of  what  they  have  to  do ; 
and  it  is  done  in  the  very  best  way,  whether  with  the  axe,  the 
plough,  the  hoe,  or  the  scythe.  They  have,  too,  a spice  of 
the  Swiss  in  their  sharp  thrift,  and  as  good  shots  with  the 
rifle  ; and  go  beyond  them  in  riches  of  every  kind,  and  a con- 
sequent bluntness  of  manner  not  particularly  engaging  to  us 
strangers. 

In  the  country  parts  of  America  churches  are  rare  ; all  the 
world  are  Dissenters  of  some  shade  or  other  ; they  ride  miles 
of  a Sunday  to  their  meeting-houses,  where  may  be  seen, 
perhaps,  fifty  horses,  hitched  to  the  trees  or  fences ; and  a 
dozen  or  two  of  their  light  carts  or  wagons,  all  taking  care  of 
themselves  outside,  while  the  congregation,  if  Quaker,  are 
silently  waiting  (covered)  for  the  spirit  to  move  some  one  ; if 
German  or  mixed,  a Lutheran  or  Calvinist  extempore  service ; 
but  there  is  no  sort  of  acrimony  of  sect : out  of  the  four  walls 
nobody  talks  of  beliefs,  no  matter  what  it  is.  Often  there  is  a 
great  mixture  of  creeds  under  one  roof,  as  a matter  of  conve- 
nience. Even  the  Quakers  have  grown  less  rigid.  The  rims 
of  their  hats  shrink  perceptibly,  and  buttons  abound.  Here 
(and  it  really  is  refreshing)  gentility  is  unknown,  unheard  of ; 
the  poorest  creature,  if  hired,  eats  at  the  same  table,  and  is 
quite  on  a familiar  footing  at  once,  from  the  wilds  of  Conne- 
mara. our  own  street-sweepers,  or  the  organ-boy  of  Savoy — if 
any  such  should  have  the  luck  or  the  address  to  find  his  way 
over — and  persevere  out  of  the  sea-board  cities,  into  the 
interior : all  I now  say  holds  good  more  or  less  in  all  the 
northern  partly-cleared  states — from  the  vastness  of  the 
space ; and,  though  America  has  a grand  total  of  near 
25,000,000,  still  the  country  population  is  very  thinly  scattered, 
and  hands  and  labour  always  welcome. 

Then  again,  while  the  men  are  in  the  fields  or  woods,  the 
women  attend  to  the  household  concerns,  milk  the  cows  (no 
man  ever  does),  attend  to  their  perfect  dairies,  which  are 
always  over  pure  springs,  and  called  “ spring -houses."  No 
matter  how  rich,  there  is  seldom  or  ever  a hired  maid ; and  if 
there  is,  ten  to  one  she  instantly  merges  into  one  of  themselves, 
or  becomes  shortly  their  sister-in-law.  In  all  this  perfect 
economy,  perfect  plenty,  and  progress  to  well-being  and  wealth. 


104 


BU8TIC  MIND — AN  D WATTERS. 


there  is  hut  one  neglect — there  is  no  garden  beyond  a few 
poorly -raised  vegetables,  though  each  farm  has  a fine  orchard 
of  apples,  peaches,  and  cherries  ; but  the  men  have  no  idea  of, 
or  time  for,  horticulture.  Potatoes  are  fine,  and  in  great 
plenty ; but  fevr  turnips,  or  beans,  or  peas,  and  never  in  their 
fields  : there  are  very  few  sheep,  fewer  pastures  ; no  downs  or 
commons  of  any  kind,  on  this  side  of  those  rolling  prairies  of 
the  far  west ; thence,  apart  from  the  grandeur  of  their  woods 
and  rivers,  American  scenery  is  very  formal,  indeed  ugly 
wherever  settlers  meddle  with  it,  from  the  constant  post  and 
rail  divisions  of  the  fields,  or  by  still  uglier  worm  fences,  i 
and,  in  the  newer  farms,  the  stumps  of  trees ; the  absence 
of  anything  like  a park,  or  a lawn,  or  a fiower-garden,  at  or 
near  their  houses,  which,  in  turn,  are  much  inferior  to  their 
barns  in  size,  often  in  good  looks  and  construction ; the 
richest  farmers,  perhaps,  living  in  a small  log  or  frame-house, 
while  his  barn  is  of  stone,  towering  two  stories  above  his 
very  humble  roof ; a sensible  proud  humility ; for  all  his 
riches  are  comprised  in  the  grand  barn  and  farm-yard,  and 
there  is  wisely  concentred  all  his  care,  industry,  and  attention. 

As  to  mind,  the  amenities,  accomplishments,  and  elegancies 
oflife,  they  would  only  enfeeble,  aud  do  mis  chief  here;  and  who 
expects  it  ? In  our  dear  old  England  we  are  eaten  up  by 
gentility — enfeebled  by  it — bored  by  it : we  are  so  excessively 
genteel,  that  we  are  forced  to  be  rude  to  each  other ; and  can 
by  no  accident  ever  be  natural  and  sincere,  in  or  out  of  the 
country,  so  much  afraid  are  we  of  each  other’s  hair-splitting 
pretensions  to  caste  and  fashion ! I have,  of  course,  the  highest 
respect  and  consideration  for  our  “ ten  thousand”  small  pre- 
tenders at  the  heels  of  the  ton,  expectant ; but  what  is  one  to 
say  of  our  really  great  people  in  high  places,  who  guide  eis,  and 
their  very  fashionable  followers  and  creatures,  who,  to  a man, 
are  so  very  good-for-notliingly  exquisite,  that  they  disdain  to  do 
their  official  duties  decently,  or  condescend  to  be  sufficiently 
vulgar  to  know,  or  be  at  all  alive  to  anything  that  is  going 
on  about  them  in  the  world,  beyond  the  trifling  West-end  ex- 
clusive circle?*  But  how  pains-taking  and  truly  industrious  in 
their  trifling  ! — in  the  shape  or  speed  of  a horse — in  the  import- 
ance of  a particular  club,  the  Opera,  or  Erench  play,  or  French 
dish — or  the  sublime  impossibility  of  a ball  at  the  Palace ! Oh, 
England ! Oh,  my  country  ! what  are  your  ships  like — what, 
your  sailors — your  poor  fishermen  and  your  shores  ? — what  of 
our  one  river,  and  of  our  one  city,  flooded  with  idle  luxury,  dirt, 
and  ten  thousand  conflicting  abuses  and  abominations  ? — but, 
hold ! — I am  offered  some  indifferent  apples  at  six  cents  a-piece, 
at  the  station. 

Seven  or  eight  miles  bejrnnd  Harrisburg  we  come  to  the 

* Sadly  conspicuous  in  the  conduct  of  the  present  Russian  war. 


BAIL  CLIMBING  THE  ALLEGHANIES. 


105 


spurs  of  the  lulls  closing  in,  and  cross  the  Susquehanna  towards 
the  Alleghany  mountains  along  the  track  of  the  Juniata  river; 
one  of  its  romantic  tributaries. 

W e now  ascend  along  the  valley  on  its  right  bank,  and  pass 
through  a string  of  new  towns,  with  many  odd  names,  all  going 
more  or  less  a-head  ; these  names  are  not  of  much  moment ; 
but  there  was  Rockville,  Cove,  Duncannon,  Aqueduct,  Miller’s 
Town,  Tuscarora.  Mexico,  Mitlin,  Lewistown,  M'Vey,  Newton 
Hamilton,  Hans  Yalley,  Mill  Creek,  and  Huntingdon,  the  most 
considerable,  and  a large  town. 

As  we  proceed,  our  inclines  grow  more  and  more  elevated — • 
the  hills  on  each  side  swelling  into  mountains — sometimes  the 
railway  crossing  rapid  deep  creeks  rushing  to  the  river  far 
below  us  in  the  glen,  over  viaduct  bridges  very  boldly  thrown 
across — the  scenery  all  along  beautiful — growing  more  wild 
and  grand  in  forest  and  steep  valleys  and  gorges  every  ten 
miles  ; our  course  often  skirting  the  slope  of  the  bills  with  ab- 
rupt precipices  above  and  below  us.  It  went  often  to  my  heart 
to  see  the  noble  pines  on  each  side  felled,  many  wantonly  ! and 
laying  prostrate  in  their  pride,  and  rotting — in  every  stage  of 
decomposition — some  again,  but  lately  cut  in  all  their  green 
glories,  would  ‘"'make  a mast  for  some  tall  admiral’s  ship  !” 

After  all,  man  destroys  more  than  he  creates  ! Look  at  these 
giants  of  the  forest ! and  look  at  his  little  miserable  frame- 
houses  made  of  some  few  of  them  he  has  sawed,  and  tacked  up 
in  their  villages  on  the  river  banks  ! — but  night  shuts  out  this 
horrid  awful  destruction,  and  these  glorious  wilds  together — 
and  in  due  time  we  arrive  at  Holidaysburg,  on  a branch  of  the 
Spruce  river  and  Beaver  Dam  Creek — itself  a fine  large  stream, 
of  perhaps  ten  thousand-horse  power.  I forgot  to  say  that  we 
crossed  and  recrossed  the  Juniata  more  than  once  on  our  way ; 
and  finally,  beyond  Huntingdon,  to  the  right  bank,  striking 
into  the  steeper  narrow  valley  of  the  Spruce  Creek. 

One  may  imagine  the  peculiar  beauties  of  this  kind  of  wild 
forest  and  mountain  scenery  in  summer,  when  these  cool  shades 
and  retreats  are  so  grateful — but  wo  had  nothing  but  snow 
and  ice  for  it — the  cold  most  bitter — we  all  sat  latterly  in  a 
torpid  state,  except  the  few  thawed  individuals  piled  on  each 
other  round  the  stove. 

At  a junction  station-house  and  hotel,  a mile  beyond  Holi- 
davsburg,  a growing  town,  we  were  to  sup  and  sleep ; to  be 
shifted  next;  morning  to  the  cars  of  the  next  following  train. 

Too  happy  to  warm  our  fingers  and  toes,  or  for  any  sort  of 
change,  I was  quite  insensible  to  having  gained  nothing  by 
being  a day  in  advance,  except  a very  scrambling  backwood 
sort  of  supper  (it  was  past  midnight),  and  a three  hours’  attempt 
to  sleep  in  a very  frigid  bed,  which  defied  my  puny  efforts, 
laughed  at  my  miseries  (a  la  Dickens),  and  handed  me  over- 
withont  concern  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  man  and  lantern 


106 


VERY  COLD — QUEER  SMALL  TALK. 


at  four  o’clock — in  midnight  darkness — to  dress  and  get  up  a 
provisionary  appetite  for  very  tough,  beefsteaks,  mountain  aud 
torrent  stale  bread,  and  some  pure  Mocha — into  which  the 
torrent  had  surely  broken,  before  it  boiled  and  filled  our  cups 
at  five  o’clock — when  the  passengers  just  arrived  helped  us  to 
“ do  justice  to  the  meal.”  Wow,  to  sup  at  one  and  breakfast 
at  five  is  not  at  all  a bad  contrivance — for  the  tavern-keepers  ! 
— so,  having  paid  my  dollar  and  a-half  for  this  pleasing 
arrangement,  and  comfortable  lodging — I once  more  ascended 
the  cars;  and  after  a pleasant  search  (all  the  seats  occupied 
within  33  deg.  of  Fahrenheit,  or  any  heat),  I made  a lodgement 
in  the  comfortable  draught  of  the  door ; truly,  it  was  Hobson’s 
choice;  and  never  shall  I forget  the  ascent  and  descent  of  the 
Alleghanies  ! the  weather  each  twelve  hours  growing  more  in- 
tensely cold.  It  was  the  middle  of  December,  and  perfectly 
natural ; but  still  people  would  insist  on  the  extreme  mildness 
of  the  winters  for  these  last  twelve  years  all  over  America ! 
and  that  there  would  be  no  frost  and  snow  to  signify  before 
Christmas,  certainly;  pendant  icicles  everywhere  commented 
on  the  impertinence. 

Our  way  lay  up  the  pass  of  the  Spruce  Creek  by  the  steep 
mountain  side,  precipices  to  the  right,  but  thick  woods  and 
noble  trees  would  catch  the  cars  if  they  went  off  the  rail ; so 
we  couldn’t  fall  far,  and  our  pace  upwards  was  not  too  swift, 
perhaps  twelve  or  fifteen  moles  an  hour.  At  one  spot  we 
came  to  a stand-still,  overhung  by  a crag  of  most  superb  slates, 
in  such  exuberance  breaking  themselves  out,  a few  tons  had 
just  shot  down  across  our  way,  and  local  navvies  were  clearing 
them  off  for  us.  A thousand  tons,  loosened,  threatened  us 
over  head.  This  was  an  escape  we  were  not  a Hit  thankful 
for,  but  grumbled  at  the  stoppage.  For  my  part,  I tried  to 
calculate  what  such  a hill  of  noble  slate  slabs  would  be  worth 
at  one  of  our  artificial  stone-yards  on  the  New-road,  Mary- 
lebone,  but  it  was  impossible.  Hear  me  sat  a most  pretty, 
precocious,  independent  young  lady,  who  kept  up  a loud  in- 
cessant gabble  (going  home  from  some  large  boarding-school, 
highly  finished,  with  her  brother)  with  a Pittsburg  practi- 
tioner, just  introduced.  Good  heavens!  what  stuff  did  these 
two  talk.  But  the  only  singular  part  of  it  was  the  scandal, 
of  who  and  who  were  courting,  who  pretty  and  ugly,  mixed 
with  the  grave  disquisition  of  trite  mundane  things,  politics, 
and  finally  pills,  where  the  brother  ventured  to  cut  in.  The 
Pittsburg  man,  who  was  absurdly  gallant,  though  a married 
man,  being  a great  philosopher,  declaring  aloud  that  it  was 
essential  to  humbug  his  patients  very  often,  and  give  them 
bread  pills. 

All  this  was  really  only  remarkable  from  its  crudeness,  its 


FREEZING  IN  STAGES.  107 

excessive  affectation,  and,  in  the  girl,  unbecoming  forwardness 
and  boldness. 

We  are  always  talking  of  American  domestic  manners ; 
differing,  after  all,  little  from  our  own,  except  in  this  loud, 
bold,  unbecoming  affectation  in  all  the  genteel  world  of  them 
cities.  So,  too,  it  already  besets  them  country  towns,  and 
one  is  stunned  by  it,  and  made  sick  up  the  inclined  planes  of 
this  grand  ridge  of  “blue  mountains.”  Hot  the  cold,  the 
snow,  these  noble  pines,  these  virgin  solitudes,  can  stop  it. 
We  had  arrived  at  the  first  engine-house,  the  locomotives 
taken  off,  and  endless  ropes  winding  up  sharp  inclines  through 
these  beautiful  woods.  Some  of  us  got  out,  and  walked  along 
or  ran  up  ahead,  to  get  unbenumbed,  the  doctor  and  the 
young  lady  still  talking  for  a wager,  and  for  the  amusement 
of  a considerable  circle  round  the  stove. 

I should  observe  that  long  prior  to  this  recent  railway,  a 
canal  on  our  track  traversed  this  state  to  the  west,  and  climbs 
these  mountains  not  far  from  us  on  the  opposite  side  of  this 
pass,  to  Pittsburg. 

These  inclines  (I  think,  in  all,  six  engine-stations,  three 
on  each  side)  are  very  tedious.  In  the  summer  the  ramble 
across  on  foot,  no  matter  how  slow  (about  a walking  pace), 
would  have  been  delightful ; but  now  the  cold  was  too  great ; 
we  were  forced  back  into  the  cars  out  of  the  cutting  winds. 
At  length  we  got  down  on  the  western  side,  and  were  once 
more  taken  on  by  the  locomotive. 

As  in  all  mountain  passes,  fine  dashing  streams  rise  and 
rush  down  on  both  sides.  So  here  we  left  the  Spruce  Itiver 
on  the  east  side,  and  the  Loyalhanna  on  the  west  rushes 
under  our  crossing  viaduct,  a tributary  to  the  Monongahela. 

In  a wild  spot  (Lockport  P)  on  the  western  side,  we  at  length 
came,  towards  sunset,  to  the  provisional  board-shed  terminus, 
still  forty  miles  short  of  Pittsburg  ; and  here  we  all  scrambled 
out,  and  scrambled  into  half  a dozen  four-horsed  stages,  drawn 
up  waiting  for  us.  It  snowed  at  intervals,  the  cold  intense, 
and  I really  pitied  some  of  the  women  and  children,  bewil- 
dered at  the  “ depot”  among  the  baggage,  and  under  the 
horses’  feet.  All  in  confusion  worse  confounded,  everybody 
sauve  qui  peui,  rushing  to  the  stages,  in  or  out  of  turn,  the 
fear  being,  among  the  more  knowing,  that  the  lag-lasts  would 
have  to  ride  outside. 

We  all  know  what  an  American  stage  is.  Inside  or  out, 
they  are  the  most  stupid,  detestable  contrivances  ever 
imagined.  Inside  I thought  I should  have  been  frozen, 
though  packed  close  on  each  other.  They  hold  nine,  but 
eleven  got  in,  and  the  leathern  curtains  only  mock  you  with 
the  idea  of  warmth  or  shelter  from  the  cutting  blast.  My 


108 


ARRIVE  FROZEN  AT  PITTSBURG. 


teeth  chattered,  my  limbs  trembled.  Millions  of  deaths  occur  * 
with  ten  times  less  suffering  than  that  of  this  wretched  purga- 
tory of  twenty-eight  miles.  As  to  our  luggage,  it  mighi  - 
come  on,  or  be  pitched  into  the  Lojmlhanna,  which  was  mean-  | 
dering  somewhere  about,  getting  frozen  like  ourselves.  But 
what  must  have  been  the  feelings  (or  no  feelings)  of  the 
drivers,  and  a few  stray  unfortunates  who  had  to  sit  outside  jj 
during  that  abominable  drive ! The  jolting,  though  enough  |j 
to  dislocate  one’s  limbs,  was  a kind  of  pleasure  ; and  yet,  oh  ! ^ 
outside  I could  hear  them  laughing,  pulling  up  at  various  | 
wayside  taverns  for  a dram,  ay,  it  couldn’t  be  too  strong. 
And  the  horses,  always  good  and  fast,  tore  us  along  with  l, 
glee,  thinking,  poor  things,  of  their  stable  and  their  corn.  I’m 
not  sure,  but  think  the  same  set  took  us  a full  trot  the  whole  ^ 
distance. 

I instinctively  ran  for  it,  and  got  into  the  last  twelve-mile  ^ 
rail-cars  along  the  right  bank  of  the  Monongahela  down  to 
Pittsburg,  where  we  arrived  near  midnight  in  a torpid  state. 
But  what  I suffered  from  cold  further  down  the  Ohio  this 
winter  makes  all  this  mild  initiation  a mere  matter  of  moon- 1 
shine.  An  hour  in  a fierce  snow-storm,  hunting  out  our  bags  ‘ 
and  baggage,  and  a mile  ride  in  an  open  omnibus,  for  twenty-  (| 
five  cents,  to  the  Monongahela  Hotel,  was  yet  not  the  j 
“ deeper  still”  reserved  for  my  crude  inexperience.  I was 
now  a mummy,  but  I had  yet  to  be  unrolled. 

Well,  this  large  soot- begrimed  (worse  than  London),  black,  . 
brick  town,  was  now  clothed  in  a pure  white  frozen  mantle. 
Indeed,  natives  and  passengers  were  equally  astonished  at  J 
this  extreme  and  sudden  severity.  Stoves  were  red  hot  (coals 
are  here  just  as  at  Newcastle,  and  the  town  is  a coarser  Bir- 
mingham) ; but,  however,  resolve  to  mount  the  long  cold  cor- 
ridors, and  seek  one’s  icy  bedroom.  Well,  all  sufferings, 
great  and  small,  have  their  pleasures,  by  the  contrast  of  in- 
termission. I was  alive  and  lively  next  morning,  and  rambled 
about  the  town  in  the  snow. 

Pittsburg  is  in  a most  beautiful  situation  at  the  confluence 
of  the  Monongahela  and  Alleghany  rivers,  on  a flat  peninsula, 
under  the  fine  picturesque  hills  of  the  Monongahela  on  the 
east  side  ; to  the  west,  in  Ohio,  all  is  comparatively  flat  near 
the  town,  though  distant  hills  appear  ; and,  altogether,  it  is  a 
charming  country.  Both  these  rivers  are  large,  and  navigable 
a long  way  upwards,  and  form,  at  the  point  at  the  south  end 
of  the  streets  of  the  suburbs,  the  great  Ohio.  Large  hand- 
some bridges,  on  the  iron  suspension  plan,  cross  both  rivers 
to  the  centre  of  the  town:  while  on  the  east  side,  on  the 
Monongahela,  some  forty  or  fifty  Ohio  steamers  lay  at  the 
wide  sloping  strand,  with  their  noses  on  shore ; no  need  of 


FOUNDBIES — INGENIOUS  CONTEIVANC'ES.  101) 

.anchors,  or  particular  wharves.  Nor  is  the  west  side  of  the 
town  without  its  boats  on  the  Alleghany  river. 

The  whole  town  is  an  iron  one  ; up  and  down  every  street 
the  largest  warehouses  are  filled  with  thousands  of  cast-iron 
. stoves  of  every  possible  form  (and  in  execrable  bad  taste  as  to 
ornament),  the  pavements  are  encumbered  by  them,  and  pots, 

‘ pans,  boilers,  ploughshares,  and  all  the  useful  family  of  hard- 
ware, is  in  coarse  profusion — for  as  yet  they  have  not  come  to 
' the  more  delicate  branches  of  knives,  scissors,  razors,  and 
' highly -polished  things  ; but  steel  tools  are  excellent,  and  of 
1 handy  forms  and  variety,  exceeding  our  ingenuity — axes, 

' chisels,  hammers,  saws,  planes,  vices,  files,  rabbets,  &c.,  and  I 
' could  have  loaded  myself  with  varieties  and  improvements, 
' which  our  more  stupid  mechanics  and  tradesmen  never  have 
hit  on  yet ! These  ingenious  contrivances  extend  to  farming 
implements,  and  useful  novelties  of  other  descriptions.  Our 
; hardware  people  should  travel ! so  shoidd  our  stupid  tailors 
and  shoemakers,  whom  I have  watched  not  advancing  one 
single  step  in  forty  years  ! Even  in  harness  they  beat  us — in 
wood,  in  leather,  in  iron.  In  the  purely  ornamental  they  may 
, sin  against  simplicity  and  good  taste  more  than  our  tradesmen 
' - — but  not  much — while  it  is  made  up  for  by  then’  practical, 
’ useful,  hand}',  ingenious  contrivances,  which  in  England,  from 
; father  to  son,'  is  never  dreamt  of ! 

Who  but  must  be  aware  of  this,  crossing  from  the  Boulvards, 
or  Kue  de  Bivoli,  .to  Begent-street,  or  from  Boston  to  Picca- 
' dilly  ? It  is  not  what  one  may  see  shine  in  a few  families 
[ among  us — a few  shops,  a few  things,  very  exquisite  in  their 
way — but  what  is  diffused  throughout  the  land,  and  in  every- 
body's hands,  making  the  million  intelligent! 

I was  very  proud  of  our  superb  show  at  our  half  of  our 
'World’s  Pair;  but  china,  plate,  glass,  jewellery,  pianos,  silks, 

1 and  ten  thousand  superfluous  elegancies  in-  which  the  French 
i rival  us  (often  beat  us),  shoidd  not  set  aside  the  more  valuable 
‘ and  useful!  in  things  of  daily  use,  that  we  want  every  minute; 
we,  too,  who  pride  ourselves  on  the  practical  and  useful ! 

Pittsburg  is  already  a large  and  populous  city,  of  an 
immense  trade  in  iron,  doing  business  on  a great  scale,  full 
of  foundries  (many  on  the  opposite  shore,  under  the  steep 
‘ hills),  casting  and  manufacturing  steam-boat  boders,  funnels, 
and  machinery,  for  all  the  thousands  of  steam-boats  on  all 
these  great  western  waters  (the  other  chief  manufactories 
being  at  Wheeling,  Louisville,  and  Cincinnati),  the  demand 
increasing  every  year.  Perhaps  this  one  branch  and  null  cog- 
: wheels,  may  be  considered  as  of  the  most  consequence ; and 
it  is  brought  to  great  perfection  in  high-pressure  engines, 
with  which  all  the  boats  are  fitted — open  on  the  main  deck, 


110 


OHIO  STEAM-BOATS. 


the  great  cabin  fore  and  aft  variously  divided  in  saloons,  state 
cabins,  &c.,  being  supported  before  the  paddle-boxes  on 
stanchions—  all  open  on  deck — the  centre  up  to  the  axle  of  the 
wheels  occupied  by  the  furnaces,  boilers,  cylinders,  and  ' i 
pistons,  which  work  horizontally  (nearly),  with  double-hinged1; 
arms,  direct  to  the  axle  behind  the  boilers,  which,  ranged  in 
pairs,  of  cylinder  shape,  too,  of  perhaps  seven  feet  diameter 
and  twenty-live  feet  length,  are  placed  horizontally  on  a brick- 
work  platform  on  the  deck. 

All  the  boats  have  two  great  funnels  over  the  fire-grates. 
Coal  (which  is  in  the  cheapest* abundance,  cropping  out  in 
many  spots  along  the  Ohio,  and  requiring  hardly  more  labour 
to  get  at  than  a common  stone  quarry  at  the  water-side)  isj 
burned  all  down  the  river,  and  would  be  continued,  as  much 
the  better  fuel  and  more  economical,  up  and  down  the  Missis-i 
sippi,  but  that  they  cannot  afford  to  take  up  so  much  of  their 
freight  with  it,  having  other  deck  cargo ; and  even  on  the  1 . 
Ohio,  rather  put  in  at  various  coal  depots  as  they  come  up 
and  down,  than  encumber  their  decks  with  it  too  much  at  a 
time. 

These  immense  boats  draw  astonishingly  little  water — 
loaded  to  the  “guards,”  that  is,  almost  level  with  the  deck 
itself,  only  from  four  to  five  feet — with  perhaps  800  or  1000 
tons,  and  towering  on  the  water  twenty  feet  high,  perhaps 
sixty  broad,  and  200  feet  long.  All  carry  passengers,  as  well 
as  cargo.  Their  tables,  saloons,  servants,  state  cabins,  &c.J 
are  much  in  the  same  way  as  on  the  eastern  sea-board. 

One 'of  these  fine  boats,  ready  to  start,  I watched  from  the 
parlour  window  of  the  hotel,  sorely  perplexed  whether  to  go 
on  board  at  once,  or  run  the  risk  of  the  river  closing  entirely 
by  remaining  a day  longer  ; for  already  I saw,  when  on  the 
north  side  of  the  town,  the  - Alleghany  river  filled  with 
floating  ice,  though  the  Monongahela  (the  larger,  and  coming 
from  the  south,)  was  as  yet  free ; indeed  the  thing  was  so  very! 
rare,  that  nobody  would  believe  the  river  below  could  bo! 
closed  ; however,  the  intense  cold  ought  to  have  made  them 
suspect  it ; besides,  at  hotels  they  are  never  anxious  to  gct|-J  \ 
you  away,  so  I suffered  this  boat,  the  mail,  to  depart,  not  . 
without  doubts  as  to  the  morrow,  which  certain  recollected! 
sage  maxims  reinforced  very  uncomfortably. 

In  ordinary  weather  many  boats  come  and  go  every  dayl 
and  there  is  no  sort  of  difficulty  about  a passage ; in  such! 
weather,  still  snowing,  and  freezing  great  guns,  walking! 
about  was  not  pleasant,  and  to  observe  minutely,  difficult!  | 
The  entrance  of  a canal  in  the  north-east  suburb,  and  its1 
locks,  gates,  &c.,  in  ruins,  might  be  traced  to  railroads  casting  i 
their  shadows  before ; and  beyond  them,  on  the  more  elevated 


DOWN  THE  OHIO. 


Ill 


banks,  I could  see  where  all  tlie  town  came  from,  in  the  still 
busy  and  extensive  brickyards,  kilns,  &c. 

There  is  not  an  essential  thing  that  nature  has  not  pro- 
vided them  with  here  in  a rich  abundance  on  the  spot.  Thus 
do  the  Americans  everywhere  start  with  unheard-of  advan- 
tages, and  all  the  painfully,  expensively,  and  slowly-acquired 
knowledge  of  England  and  of  Europe.  If  I wonder  at  all,  I 
begin  to  wonder  rather  at  the  many  faults,  evils,  and  igno- 
rances they  have  perpetuated  among  themselves,  with  no 
possible  good  reason  or  excuse.  But  I must  be  off : it  is  too 
cold  to  moralise ; and  the  boat  is  about  to  start  (next  day), 
the  ice  floes  and  flakes  increased,  so  that  the  report  comes 
that  great  difficulty  is  found  in  ascending  the  river  from 
below  at  all ; and  when  we  got  below  the  town,  fairly  in  the 
Ohio,  we  found  it  full  of  ice  grating  harshly  at  our  sides,  and, 
though  not  yet  packed  much,  looking  rather  ominous ; far  as 
the  eye  could  catch  down  the  reaches,  a devious  serpentine 
course  starting  for  the  first  sixty  miles  in  a north-west 
direction,  wandering  away  from  the  point  we  aim  at — the 
south  and  Cincinnati — which  is,  by  the  river,  distant  five 
hundred  miles,  but,  as  the  crow  flies,  only  about  300 — the 
current  running  three  or  four  miles  an  hour,  and  our  speed, 
in  spite  of  having  to  cut  through  the  thickening  detached  ice, 
about  ten  miles. 

The  boat’s  stem  is  iron-shod,  with  plates- of  iron  to  guard 
the  bows,  and  yet  there  is  some  danger  of  the  ice  cutting 
through.  The  captain,  a good-natured  jolly  fellow,  with  a 
very  red  face,  has  a hard  time  of  it — up  night  and  day, 
though  he  has  a pilot ; for  the  river  has  many  shoals  in  the 
middle,  near  the  shores,  and  often  shifting,  so  that  it  requires 
all  their  intimacy  with  every  reach,  every  landmark,  and 
turn  (when  one  bank  has  to  be  crossed  over  to  or  left),  to 
avoid  grounding. 

The  excessive  severity  of  the  cold,  felt  more  and  more  away 
from  any  shelter,  makes  keeping  the  deck  a duty  only  possible 
to  strong  men  inured  to  a very  rough  life. 

The  roughest  Kentuckians  and  severe  ’Kansas  colts  on 
board  couldn’t  stand  it,  even  for  a walk  on  the  roof-deck,  or 
round  the  guards,  but  kept  snug  in  the  fore  smoking-cabin 
round  the  red-hot  stove ; the  windows  in  front  crowded  by 
those  who  preferred  looking  down  the  river. 

This  fore  cabin  is  directly  over  the  boilers,  and  I confess  I 
never  felt  quite  easy  there,  though  I got  pretty  well  hardened 
to  it  before  I got  down  to  New  Orleans.  When  there  is  a 
blow  up,  it  is  this  fore  part  and  its  contents  that  suffers  ; the 
saloon  more  behind,  particularly  the  ladies’  end  at  the  stern, 
almost  always  escaping ; but,  in  spite  of  the  terrific  accounts 


112 


PLOUGHING  THBOUGH  THE  ICE. 


which  often  reach  us  in  England  of  these  blowings  up,  it  is  1 
remarkable  how  little  notice  or  fear  it  creates  among  those  i 
who  are  used  to  it.  They  never  seem  to  give  it  a thought.  - 1 
To  enjoy  their  cigars,  two-thirds  of  the  men  were  constantly  , 
crammed  over  this  crater  of  their  floating  Vesuvius,  some 
never  stirring  night  nor  day,  except  to  eat  and  visit  the  1 
“ barber’s  shop,”  for  ten  and  twenty-five  cent  drams  at  the 
bar,  or  have  their  beards  trimmed.  In  this  “ shop”  all  the  : | 
men  wash  of  a morning,  gratis ; two  or  three  basins  and  a 
jack-towel  or  two  serves  excellently  well  for  seventy  or  a j 
hundred — but  there  all  luxury  ends,  unpaid  for,  extra.  East 
gents  get  their  boots  polished  at  the  rate  of  ^ten  cents  j 
the  pair,  which,  too,  is  the  expected  fee  for  lifting  your  port-  j 
manteau  into  your  particular  state-room  when  put  on  board, 
and  again  when  put  out  on  deck ; in  short,  all  down  to  the  1 
south,  and  along  the  slave  margin,  a copper  cent  is  never 
touched  or  heard  of — nothing  less,  for  the  least  thing,  than  , 
silver — the  fivepenny-bit  or  piccayune,  and  the  dime  or  ten  , j 
cent  piece  ; even  in  the  markets  the  cheapest  vegetables,  &c.,  J 
are  put  into  “ piccayune”  or  “dime”  tiny  heaps  or  bunches.  :l 
If  a beggar  should  accost  you  (and  such  things  are,  though  ] 
rare),  you  cannot  offer  less  than  silver,  and  you  may  make  it 
the  Irish  “ tinpenny,  good  luck  to  you,”  without  being  | 
thought  at  all  too  generous.  In  all  my  long  journey,  I found  < 
no  use  whatever  for  a few  loose  cents  I happened  to  have  r j 
about  me  when  I left  Philadelphia,  so  I threw  them  into  my  j 
trunk  to  await  my  return  to  the  northern  states  ; indeed,  I j 
felt  ashamed  of  them,  though  a handsome  coin,  and  had  some  I 
horrid  thoughts  of  committing  them  to  the  deep  in  the  Missis-  1 
sippi,  slily,  at  night,  for  the  bare  possession  of  them  (unless  I !| 
could  have  pretended  as  a curiosity,  and  passed  myself  off  as  J 
a curious  virtuoso  and  numismatic  philosopher,)  implied  danger 
of  losing  caste,  most  especially  with  all  the  Uncle  Toms. 

Our  meals  were  included  in  our  very  moderate  fare  (six  ij 
dollars  to  Cincinnati)  ; but  after  dinner,  and  after  our  iced 
muddy  water  (no  wine  or  beer  by  any  chance  whatever,  or 
any  kind  of  spirit,  out  of  the  barber’s  shop  and  bar),  the  darky 
waiters  brought  us  indifferent  apples,  for  private  amusement, 
at  a piccayune  a-piece. 

By  day,  and  round  the  saloon  stoves,  even  with  the  ther-  ) 
mometer  at  zero,  we  did  pretty  well ; but  the  nights  were  one  J 
long  waking  spell  of  freezing  misery,  the  icy  blast  whistling  1 
through  in  a thorough  draught — it  rivalled  the  intense  suffer- 
ing in  the  stage.  Meantime,  as  we  literally  ploughed  our 
way  down,  the  ice  grew  more  and  more  solid,  in  some  places 
closing  across  the  river,  and  then  came  a tremendous  grinding 
as  we  bored  through  it,  the  wheels  sending  great  blocks  and  ' 
masses  of  the  ico  on  the  guard  at  the  opening  behind  the 


COALING-  DOWN  THE  OHIO. 


113 


paddle-boxes,  mixed  with  logs,  limbs,  and  roots  of  trees, 
which  had  to  be  cleared  off  every  now  and  then.  I more  than 
once  wondered  such  logs,  and  such  thick,  ponderous  pieces  of 
ice,  did  not  break  the  wheels  to  pieces. 

We  stopped  at  several  towns  going  along,  to  land  or  take 
off  passengers.  It  is  wonderful  how  handy  these  boats  are, 
and  how  well  handled.  Taking  the  requisite  sweep  of  the 
river,  they  round  to,  and  gently  put  their  bows  to  the  clay 
bank,  when  a thick  plank  is  put  out,  people  go  and  come,  and 
we  are  off.  In  this  way  we  got  coal  on  board,  the  second 
night,  at  an  active  increasing  place,  and  great  coaling  depot 
in  Ohio,  Pomeroy.  Here  we  met  the  Pittsburg,  fellow- 
steamer,  coaling,  too,  on  her  way  up,  giving  us  no  great  hopes 
of  reaching  Cincinnati — and  her  chances  of  reaching  Pitts- 
burg were  still  more  slender ; in  fact,  she  didn’t — frozen  in 
fast,  fifty  miles  below  it. 

Ours  was  a capital  boat,  the  Keystone  State,  Captain  Stone, 
a clever  fellow,  and,  as  I have  said,  wide  awake ; freezing  on 
the  roof  at  the  wheel-house  night  and  day,  or  we  should  have 
'■  been  caught,  the  thermometer  seven  degrees  below  zero,  out 
of  the  wind.  But  I anticipate,  Pomeroy  being  about  half- 
way, and  opposite  Kentucky.  Both  banks  are  studded  all 
the  way  down  with  thriving  towns  and  villages,  all  interesting 
enough  in  then’  abrupt  history. 

But  what  I most  regretted  was,  not  seeing  this  noble  river, 
its  beautiful  banks  and  woods  in  all  their  charms,  at  any 
season  but  this.  All  is  now  one  monotonous  white ; not  a 
leaf ; the  few  houses  and  farms  hardly  discernible ; not  a tiling- 
moving  ; the  cattle  all  under  cover,  and  man  at  his  fireside. 
But  what  can  stop  a Yankee  pedlar,  and  his  two-horse  light 
wagon? — and  lo!  we  saw  one  creeping  along  a track  through 
a wood,  on  his -way  to  the  various  out-of-sight  farms  and 
villages. 

Charming  conical  wooded  hills  skirt  the  Ohio  its  whole 
[ length — the  state  of  Ohio  on  the  right,  and  Virginia  on  the 
left,  succeeding  Pennsylvania  on  the  bend  where  the  river,  in 
| ..  its  tortuous  vagaries,  turns  once  more  to  the  south. 

"We  pass  under  a curiously  bold  iron  suspension-bridge  at 

I Wheeling,  where  the  Virginia  bank  is  much  higher  than  on 
the  Ohio  side ; so,  to  avoid  trouble  and  expense,  the  bridge  is 
made  slanting- “ clicular,”  descending  into  Ohio  state,  and 
meant  to  allow  of  the  tallest  steamer  funnels  to  pass  under 
close  to  the  Virginian  side.  It  was  a very  close  shave  with  us, 
and  is  still  too  low  for  some  of  the  larger  boats.  There  is  some 
> grumbling  about  this  mistake.  “ The  long  and  the  short  of  it 
: i is,”  says  the  skipper,  “they  must  cut  their  funnels  shorter.” 
Of  course,  the  bridge  looks  very  ugly,  but  is,  I suppose,  as 
good  as  if  on  a level ; but  the  ’cute  architect  surely  forgot  1 


114 


CINCINNATI  ALL  ICE. 


about  the  rising  and  falling  of  the  river  many  feet ! and  only 
calculated  the  frequency  of  the  boats  being  forced  to  get  new 
funnels — they  are  so  soon  burnt  out ! Apropos,  the  expense  of 
these  boats  in  this  cheap  country  is  enormous  ; a medium- 
sized one  from  Pittsburg  to  New  Orleans  (and  I am  not  sure 
if  back  again)  costs  her  owner  in  wages,  wear  and  tear,  coals 
and  wood,  wharf  dues,  &c.,  five  thousand  dollars  ! One  may 
judge  how  profitable  the  freights  must  be  to  make  anything 
out  of  it,  reckoning  passengers  and  all,  numerous  as  they 
always  are. 

Kentucky  (looking,  I often  think,  more  inviting  than  the 
Ohio  side)  succeeds  Virginia  on  our  left,  all  the  rest  of  the 
way  to  Cincinnati,  which  city  we  reached,  happily,  on  the 
third  day  at  noon ; and  well  we  might  be  glad  of  it : for  the 
last  twenty-four  hours  our  boat  has  been  often  cutting 
through  the  solid  ice,  hard  enough  to  have  borne  a horse, 
often  obliging  us  to  ease  the  engine,  to  back,  to  manoeuvre,  and 
go  at  it  again,  at  the  risk  of  cutting  through  the  bows  entirely, 
for  they  were  found  very  near  it ! half  the  wheel  floats  broken, 
and  the  boat  much  damaged  along  the  water-line  : in  a word, 
we  had  not  long  taken  our  place  among  the  other  steamers 
at  the  strand  in  front  of  the  city,  before  the  whole  were  frozen 
in  immovable;  but  not  before  one  or  two  of  the  outsiders 
were  crushed. 

After  all  we  have  heard  of  this  famous  wrestern  city,  I am 
utterly  disappointed  in  itself,  and  in  its  looks  from  the  river. 
But  it  is  too  excessively  cold  to  look  at  anything ; a few  hack 
carriages  trotted  down,  and  I jumped  into  one,  as  the  shortest  | 
way  to  find  a hotel  and  shelter  of  some  kind.  I really 
thought  my  fingers  and  toes  would  be  frozen  before  we  got 
y to  the  Broadway  Hotel  close  by,  in  the  Broadwav-street. 
Never  was  anything  more  dismal : the  sun  shining  brilliantly, 
not  a cloud,  and  not  a soul  in  the  streets — indeed,  for  a day  or  1 
two,  nobody  went  out  of  doors  not  forced  to,  and  then  at  : 
a full  run.  All  the  hotels  and  boarding-houses  full  of  travel-  ■ 
V lers,  unable  to  get  either  up  or  down ; particularly,  it  was  said, 
great  numbers  of  gamblers  and  scamping  loafers,  who  make  a 
good  thing  of  going  up  and  down  these  rivers  in  the  steam-  J 
boats.  Thus  pent  up  here,  and  rendered  desperate  by  their 
honest  expenses,  they  were  spoken  of  as  very  unwelcome  cus- 
tomers ; and  not  a few  of  them,  if  one  might  judge  by  their 
queer  exteriors,  had  taken  up  their  quarters  at  this  same 
hotel ; but  as  I never  play  cards,  and  don’t  mean  to  walk  out 
at  night,  nor  day  either,  with  the  thermometer  below  zero  ten 
or  twelve  degrees,  I need  care  nothing  about  them.  Still 
there  was  the  universal  printed  caution  on  my  door  about 
keeping  one’s  bedroom-door  locked,  and  nobody  accountable 
for  robberies. 


1TB8.  TKOLLOPE’s  BAZAAR — HOTELS.  115 

The  usual  discomforts  of  American  hotels  are  nothing  in 
summer,  but  liere  I have  them  in  full  force.  I should  much 
prefer  a stable,  even  without  straw  (and  with  a stove),  to  the  _J 
sitting-room  in  this  hotel;  one  of  the  best  here,  and  only- 
second  to  Burnet’s,  which  is  an  immense  pile,  but  in  an  out-of- 
the-way  street,  while  this  is  in  the  centre  of  all  the  stir  and 
fashion  of  the  town,  and  pretty"  close  to  the  river — but, 
indeed,  the  stove  is  surrounded  by  a rough  lot,  with  all  their 
amenities  and  damp  accompaniments.  To  read,  or  write, 
or  converse,  all  equally  impossible,  so  I walk  from  one  room  to 
another,  look  in  at  the  barber’s  and  bar-room,  and  out  at 
the  windows ; a desperate  Kentuckian  rides  daringly  down 
the  street,  and  some  boys  have  established  a slide  bn  the 
pavement. 

Cincinnati  is  considered  the  queen  of  the  Ohio,  the  wonder 
of  the  American  medium  western  world,  and  it  is  a large 
brick-built  city,  of  a hundred  and  sixty  thousand  souls,  not 
badly  placed  below  some  nice  hills  on  an  elevated  flat,  where 
the  river  (here,  and  all  along,  about  half  a mile  wide)  makes  a 
bold  bend  opposite  the  Licking  river,  in  Kentucky,  which  has 
its  large  town  of  Covington  on  one  side,  and  N ewton  on  the 
other,  skirted  by  very  picturesque  wooded  hills  behind  them  ; 

I think  it  much  the  prettiest  side  of  the  two,  for  the  city 
people  here  wont  let  their  nearest  hills  alone,  but  are  cutting 
into  them,  roads,  levels,  brickyards,  &c.,  so  that  already  they 
are  ugly  in  bare  clay  and  earth  faces,  and  their  fine  woods 
already"  cut  down. 

The  streets  are  wide,  but  except  this  Broadway,  not  wide 
enough,  and  crossed,  as  usual,  at  right  angles  ; a canal,  which 
runs  up  the  valley  of  Mill  creek,  skirts  the  northern  suburb, 
the  locks  opening  on  the  river. 

There  are  a good  many  handsome  churches,  meeting-houses, 
halls,  hotels,  assembly-rooms,  asylums,  and  other  public 
buildings,  including  a theatre ; some  of  the  private  houses  are 
very  handsome,  and  all  are  on  a large  scale,  and  at  high  rents, 
with  the  usual  proportion  of  frame-houses  at  the  extremities 
of  the  older  streets,  which  are  planted  with  trees  (the  plane- 
tree,  horse-chestnut,  locust,  and  maple).  In  the  suburbs  are 
a good  many  manufactories,  and  the  smoke  as  dense  nearly  as 
in  London ; some,  however,  shut  up,  others  in  ruins  ; showing 
a constant  change  even  in  comparatively  recent  speculations. 

In  Third-street,  and  near  the  Broadway,  I saw  what  was 
Mrs.  Trollope’s  bazaar  (always  a failure) ; it  has  been  long 
•since  occupied  as  an  occasional  lecture-room,  and  divided  off 
into  an  apothecary’s  shop,  and  other  stores.  The  facade  is 
still  comparatively  handsome,  in  the  modern  Gothic,  in  spite 
of  the  immense  brick  buildings,  as  hotels  and  stores,  which 
have  since  sprung  up  each  side  of  it.  She  left  it,  I dare  say, 


116  ASSASSINATIONS — FRENCH  CONTEMPT. 

the  largest  building  iu  the  street ; hut  even  Mrs.  Trollope  is  , 
forgotten — few  recollect  who  built  it,  or  for  what  purpose ; 
and  no  attempt  at  a bazaar  succeeded  it. 

This  is  the  season  of  balls.  The  firemen  and  Germans  are 
advertising  a I’envi.  Other  amusements  seem  scarce,  even 
when  the  weather  relaxes  a little.  The  town  is  badly  lit ; and 
even  the  men  are  afraid  to  go  out  at  night,  except  in  parties 
and  armed.  Several  citizens  are  mentioned  in  the  papers 
as  missing  most  mysteriously ! 

Our  evening  lounge  for  idlers  (and  the  whole  town  is  now 
forced  to  be  idle)  is  the  evening  auction  marts,  where  every 
conceivable  thing  is  sold — if  it  comes  up  to  the  price  ex-  ' 
pected ! Books,  pictures  for  farmers  and  log-houses,  clothing, 
&c.  I do  not  go,  nor  to  the  theatre.  Shut  up  in  this  way 
one  finds  some  other  amusement.  The  place  is  full  of  French 
bagsmen,  or  adventurers,  up  from  New  Orleans,  or  down  j 
fresh  from  Paris.  Here  is  one  who  has  been  here  some  time 
with  a venture  of  pictures  for  this  market ; but  they  wont 
sell,  and  he  is  forced  to  try  it  on  by  the  hammer.  Every 
night  when  he  returns  from  the  sale  he  is  loud  in  bad  English,  h 
interlarded  with  French,  against  “ His  stupide  peoples,  good 
for  nutting  but  make  de  pig  and  de  dollare  ! dis  sacre  Porko- 
polis!  Yell,  sare,  nevare  was  some  peoples  like  dis  stupide!  j 
what  is,  but  canaille !” 

Some  one  slily  said : 

“ Do  you  go  armed,  mounseer  P there’s  a lot  of  queer 
chaps  about;  they  might  upset  you,  and  borrow  your  porte 
monnoie !” 

At  this  the  Frenchman  looked  fierce. 

“ Yat  is  upset?  Sail  borrow  I nevare  am  fraid  of  chap 
yet,  brigand ! I shall  knock  him  wid  dis  poignard !” 

“Ay,  but  what  if  five  or  six  trip  up  your  heels  ?” 

“ My  heel !'  Ah  ! let  come  five,  six — I knock  him  all,  au 
diable  ; sacre  canaille  !” 

On  the  third  day,  now  near  Christmas,  the  streets  begin  to 
show  some  sign  of  life,  as  the  wind  is  less  fierce.  I walked 
down  to  the  strand  or  water-side,  where  all  the  river  steamers 
lay  touching  the  shore.  There  are  no  stone  or  planked  1 
wharves,  or  slips  of  any  kind,  at  any  of  the  Ohio  or  Mis-  j 
sissippi  towns — they  are  unnecessary. 

I counted  about  thirty-five  of  these  great  steamers,  all 
frozen  in  as  fast  as  if  set  in  so  much  granite  ; one  was  broken 
in  two,  and  several  more  or  less  damaged  by  the  surging 
of  the  drifting  blocks  of  ice  before  they  finally  closed  com* 
pletely  across ; under  this  rugged  mass  (not  unlike  the 
Alpine  glaciers)  the  river  rushes  on  its  way,  eager  to  dash  the  i 
superincumbent  stratum  into  fragments  once  more,  on  the 
first  symptoms  of  a tliaw7.  Thousands  of  people  are  already 


OHIO  FROZEN  OVER  HARD. 


117 


on  the  ice,  wagons,  carts,  trucks,  and  men  on  horseback, 
crossing  to  Covington  and  Kentucky,  all  the  more  eagerly 
on  business,  as  everything  has  been  suspended  between 
the  two  shores,  and  there  is  generally  an  active  intercourse 
between  the  towns. 

I,  too,  walked  over  to  Kentucky  among  the  crowd,  the  sun 
shining  brightly ; and  meant  to  have  looked  at  Covington  (a 
town  of  three  or  four  thousand  inhabitants,  called  a city),  and 
I might  have  crossed  the  ice  at  the  mouth  of  the  Licking 
river,  where  three  or  four  steamers  were  frozen  in,  and  had  a 
closer  look  at  Hewton,  a smaller  town,  with  a good  many 
steam-forges,  foundries,  and  manufactories,  but  I found  the 
cold  too  much  for  me ; and  everything  six  inches  deep  in  snow 
was  not  at  all  inviting  for  an  excursion,  so  I turned  about, 
and  retraced  my  steps  over  the  rugged  river,  forced  up  into 
all  sorts  of  irregular  fantastic  hummocks  and  ridges,  marking 
the  process  of  the  whirling  does  uniting,  after  being  pre- 
viously forced  upon  each  other. 

Two  or  three  huts  and  liquor-shops  were  quickly  set  up  on 
the  river  as  houses  of  call,  where  they  had  stoves  to  warm  the 
fingers  of  their  customers.  For  a few  moments  I watched 
various  horsemen  coaxing  their  horses  down  the  banks,  and 
across  the  ugly  ice-barriers,  or  slippery  open  intervals  ; other 
parties  withloads  of  provisions  onsledges  ; others  withcartsand 
wagons,  loaded  in  various  ways,  drawn  by  mules,  and  forced 
over  blocks  of  ice  and  holes,  enough  to  break  their  sledge- 
runners  or  the  legs  of  their  animals ; but  they  stopped  at 
nothing,  as  if  their  very  lives  depended  on  getting  their  load 
I across. 

This  excited  and  desperate  exertion  on  emergencies,  I think 
it  is  which  is  so  remarkable — far  beyond  our  own  sleepy 
hired  capability ; certainly  brought  more  constautly  into  play 
' all  over  America.  Theyw/W  have  no  difficulties,  or  instantly  some 
new  energetic  mode  of  getting  over  them.  In  this  way  one 
Kentuckian  had  a long  contention  with  his  horse,  which  over 
and  over  refused  to  enter  the  ice.  I should  have  alighted,  and 
led  him  on,  but  he  persisted,  and  finally  rode  him  on  over  a 
• very  ugly  place,  where  some  of  the  ice  had-been  broken  at  the 
edge ; certainly  at  the  risk,  had  the  horse  slipped,  of  breaking 
1 his  own  neck. 

The  whole  scene,  though  comfortless  and  desolate  enough, 
looking  up  the  river  on  both  sides,  the  hills,  trees,  steamers, 
the  city  itself,  and  all  the  country  round,  clothed  in  one 
dazzling  white,  had  a novelty  and  grandeur  in  it  sufficiently 
interesting,  had  I not  been  so  very  cold ; so  I regained  the 
streets,  along  the  sunny  side  of  the  shops  and  warehouses, 
which  face  the  strand. 

This  same  wide  strand  is  paved,  and  on  ordinary  occasions 


118 


EAT  AND  POULTET  INTIMACY. 


is  full  of  barrels,  boxes,  cases,  carts,  and  long-bodied  drays  ^ 
expressly  for  carrying  flour  barrels,  hackney  coaches,  and  crowds 
of  people  ; with  a constant  loading  and  unloading  of  the  i 
numerous  steamers,  arrivals  and  departures.  Even  now  it  is 
lively  enough,  for  half  the  town  are  out  to  see  or  go  on 
the  river. 

All  the  stores  on  this  river-face  have  a second-hand,  slop  i . 
appearance,  or  of  a low  peddling  order,  set  out  in  glass  cases ; 
a great  mixture  of  the  gaudy  and  superfluous  in  the  watch  ji: 
and  trinket  way  (French  wares);  or,  if  useful,  in  clothing,  ii 
tools,  fire-arms  (very  much  after  the  fashion  of  Peter  Pindar’s  1 
razors),  said  to  be  cheap,  and  sure  to  be  good  for  nothing; 
with  bold  touters  at  each  shop-door  ready  to  pounce  on  their 
victim,  should  he  venture  to  look  at  anything.  This  exces-  I 
sive  attention  is  perhaps  sharpened  by  the  cold,  and  con-  ' 
sequent  slackness  of  trade.  But  in  all  the  hotels  and  stores  ’ 
one  hears  nothing  but  this  lament  over  the  slackness  of  trade.  |l 
Here  the  great  staples  are  in  hog’s  flesh  (thence  “ Porkopolis”),  ( 
flour  and  whisky.  In  the  upper  part  of  the  town,  near  the  ,1 
canal,  are  several  immense  pork-killing  and  curing  establish- 
ments ; half  a million  unfortunate  pigs  are  killed  here  in  the  1 
year  ! salted,  packed  in  barrels,  and  exported  ; and  Covington,  I 
opposite,  shares  in  this  thriving  trade.  Here  the  streets  are  (j 
full  of  fat  pigs,  and  fat  rats.  Apropos — I more  than  once  j 
amused  myself  watching  these  sagacious  creatures  in  a back 
yard,  under  my  window,  where  an  Irish  girl  regularly  fed  i 
some  fowls  on  potatoes,  &c.  The  chief  rat  village  here  was  i 
under  a pile  of  wood ; as  soon  as  the  cocks  and  hens  were  8 
busy  eating,  first  one  would  run  out  and  reconnoitre,  run  ,i 
back,  then  out  would  come  a dozen,  and  watch  their  chance  j 
under  the  legs  of  the  poultry,  while  their  backs  were  turned  'i 
run  off  with  the  largest  bit ; every  now  and  then  the  fowls 
would  chase  them  back  under  cover,  but  they  still  returned 
while  a morsel  remained.  Ho  noises  seemed  in  the  least  to  \ 
frighten  them,  or  even  the  presence  of  the  Irish  girl,  as  she  j 
was  quite  expected  and  very  constantly  looked  for  by  both 
parties.  The  fowls  seemed  only  to  resent  their  meal  being  | 
thus  stolen,  but  no  sort  of  surprise  or  panic  at  the  intruders.  1 
One  old  cock  seemed  to  watch  the  most  bold  of  the  rats 
as  they  advanced,  as  if  from  the  corner  of  his  eye,  then 
make  a bolt  after  the  most  daring,  but  he  never  could  get  : 
a peck  at  them ; on  which  he  would  return  from  the  chase  ' 
with  a dignified  air,  as  much  as  to  say,  “You  come  that  ji 
again,  that’s  all !” 

During  the  few  days  I remained,  I saw  an  immense  number 
of  wagons  loaded  with  dead  hogs,  stiff,  piled  and  loaded  like  i 
wood,  ready  to  be  cut  up,  taking  to  the  salting  warehouses. 
They  say  now,  that  the  two  railways  here  already  interfere  | 


PIGS — WHISKY — FiOUK. 


119 


with  this  monopoly  of  pork,  by  running  off  the  pigs  alive  to 
other  markets.  I cannot  understand  it ; but  when  were  men 
ever  content  P 

The  quantity  of  whisky  and  fine  wheat  flour  collected  here, 
too,  is  enormous ; transhipped  up  and  down  the  river,  and  to  the 
sea-board  cities.  The  houses  in  Broadway,  in  Walnut,  Main, 
and  Sycamore-streets  (and  fashionable  Forth-street),  are 
many  of  them  very  handsome  ; all  are  well  built,  but  the 
streets  are  very  dirty  and  badly  paved  ; the  shops  not  so  good 
or  so  well  arranged  as  one  might  expect  to  see  in  so  large  a 
place,  but  there  is  a general  air  of  careless  neglect  in  every- 
thing which  meets  the  eye  as  to  public  arrangements  ; and  I 
am  told  the  police  is  a mere  mockery.  Like  so  many  other 
American  cities,  the  mayor  and  municipality,  chosen  from  the 
favourites  of  the  citizen  mob,  are  afraid  to  make  stringent  or 
wholesome  regulations  ; or,  if  made,  to  enforce  them  ! Their 
own  daily  papers  are  full  of  complaints  of  the  authorities. 
People  are  afraid  to  be  out  much,  or  late,  alone  or  unarmed. 
The  other  day  a man  was  killed  (it  is  concluded)  near  the 
water,  dragged  off  stunned  and  bleeding ; his  son,  a boy  who 
was  with  him  when  attacked,  ran  off  and  called  the  watch — 
about  as  efficient  as  our  old  Charleys— but  the  assassins  got 
clear  off,  and  the  body  is  not  found — a hole  in  the  ice  reveals 
nothing.  Other  cases  have  since  occurred  of  citizens  missed 
most  unaccountably,  supposed  by  find  plajr,  but  there  is  no 
stir  or  inquiry  about  the  matter.  Gangs  of  desperadoes  set 
themselves  above  the  law,  and  the  indifferent,  independent 
constables  don’t  trouble  themselves  about  their  duty,  or  dare 
not  clo  it.  Added  to  this,  the  inhabitants  complain  of  the 
turbulent  spirit  of  the  associated  firemen,  who  hang  together, 
behave  rudely,  and  set  people  at  defiance  ; for  all  these  evils 
there  seems  no  remedy,  till  it  becomes  worse,  more  intoler- 
able, when  the  volunteers,  or  militia,  must  be  called  out. 

There  are  a great  many  Germans  and  Irish  here,  chiefly 
inhabiting  the  north  and  east  suburbs  beyond  the  canal ; lots 
of  French  adventurers ; some  few  shopkeepers  in  jewellery, 
pendides,  and  daubs  of  pictures ; with  the  usual  auctions 
going  on  at  the  auction  stores,  of  books,  prints,  clothes — 
indeed,  all  sorts  of  things  useful  or  ornamental  from  Europe, 
thrown  on  a forced  sale,  by  hundreds  of  speculators  and  bank- 
rupts. These  sales  are  the  only  amusement  to  help  the  theatre, 
which  is  just  now  well  filled  by  a piece  full  of  strong  points 
and  horrors — “ The  Seven  Passions.”  But,  on  the  whole,  it 
would  be  unfair  to  judge  of  this  city  or  the  country  at  this 
moment,  when  everything  appears  to  a disadvantage.  One 
day  before  the  river  broke  up,  on  a partial  thaw,  I walked  to 
the  south-west  suburb  across  Mill  Creek  (which  meanders 
through  a nice  valley) ; all  the  suburbs  are  quite  in  the 


120 


SIGNIFICANT  ADVERTISEMENTS. 


rough,  in  frame-houses,  deep  roads,  and  empty  lots;  a large 
foundry  on  the  river  bank  here  is  in  ruins.  The  Northern 
II  ail  way  station  is  in  this  quarter,  and  is  large  and  handsome. 
This  rail  crosses  a branch  of  the  canal  and  the  creek,  and  runs 
up  the  valley  to  Columbus,  the  capital  of  the  state.  The  other 
railway,  to  the  little  Miami  valley,  is  on  the  north  shore 
suburb,  called  Fulton,  where  there  are  several  steam-engine 
factories  and  coal  depots,  and  where  a fine  new  steamer,  the 
James  Eobb,  was  fitting.  All  the  ladies’  cabins  have  a Cupid 
over  the  door,  “quite  significant,”  say  the  papers.  Apropos 
of  their  immense  floats  drawing  so  little  water,  another  paper 
says  : “ The  new  steamer,  Major  A.  Harris,  with  her  engines 
on  board,  draws  but  ten  inches  water.  Low  water  will  never 
give  her  much  trouble.”* 

Some  of  these  notices  are  startling.  Thus ; “ Great  com- 
plaints are  made  in  various  parts  of  the  city  in  regard  to 
clothes  hung  out  on  lines  (to  dry)  being  stolen.  What  next.’ 

Again,  apropos  of  the  river : “ It  is  calculated  that  twenty 
thousand  people  crossed  the  river  forth  and  back  during  Sun- 
day. Guides  charged  two  dollars  and  a half  to  show  horses 
the  way  across  the  river,  and  four  dollars  for  a horse  and  gig. 
This  beats  the  boots  off  the  ‘ Skinners’  at  Niagara.” 

Again:  “John  Hunt,  the  prince  of  apple-buttermen,  is 
boiling  over  two  thousand  pounds  of  mincemeat  for  the  holi- 
days.” 

Of  balls : “ Some  fifteen  or  twenty  Christmas  balls  are 
advertised  in  the  German  papers.  Whew  ! what  a time  there 
will  be ! an  empire  of  grindstones  in  a crazy  whirl  wifi  be 
nothing  to  it.” 

One  would  not  expect  to  hear  of  destitute  people  here,  but 
I extract  from  the  papers  again : “ There  are  a hundred  and 
fifty  boys  and  girls  at  present  in  the  house  of  refuge.”  Again : 
“ The  trustees’  office  continues  to  be  the  attractive  place  of 
distress  ; the  little  room  was  crowded  throughout  yesterday 
with,  the  poor  and  destitute,  asking  relief  of  the  city.”  To  be 
sure,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a beggar  by  trade,  nor  have  I 
been  accosted  by  any  one  of  the  poor  half-starved  looking 
creatures  one  meets  occasionally  in  rags  ; but  whole  suburbs 
seem  in  poverty,  and  yet  the  smallest  service,  or  any  job  must 
be  paid  for  exorbitantly.  Often  they  will  not  be  at  the 
trouble  of  calling  for  it,  if  promised;  it  must  be  taken  to 
them,  and  then  very  badly  done.  But  I must  break  off 
abruptly  for  want  of  room  to  say  more  now.  I will  glance  at 
one  or  two  things  characteristic  of  the  place  when  the  river 

* This  means  light,  and  not  a very  large  boat ; but  the  great  breadth,  and 
the  flatness  of  floor,  give  this  excellent  quality ; it  pervades  all  American- 
built  vessels ; giving  swiftness,  buoyancy,  and  stability. 


1 


BREAKING  UP  OF  THE  ICE. 


121 


opens,  and  as  I leave  tliis  queen  city  of  the  West,  where  sixty 
years  ago  there  was  not  a single  hut  or  wigwam  even  of  the 
Indians,  then  a dense  forest  and  a silent  shore. 


CHAPTEP  YIII. 

MOKE  OF  THE  OHIO— THE  MISSISSIPPI  AND  NEW  ORLEANS. 

With  the  new  year,  a sudden  and  most  welcome  thaw  comes 
on  with  the  wind  from  the  balmy  south ; the  river  is  breaking 
up  its  icy  bondage,  and  the  whole  town  is  astir. 

It  is  astonishing  what  general  joy  it  diffuses.  The  whole 
waterside  and  in  the  streets,  everybody  as  busy  as  bees  ; 
steam  getting  up  on  board  twenty  boats  bound  up  and  down ; 
and  for  my  part  I rushed  to  the  strand  to  secure  a berth  on 
board  something,  anything,  overjoyed  at  the  chance  of  escape. 

The  language  of  the  puff  advertisements  is  quite  overpower- 
ing— where  choose  when  such  stunning  excellence  besets  one 
in  everything.  I shut  my  eyes  on  the  daily  press  and  go 
straight  over  the  inviting  planks  on  board  one  of  the  many 
loaded  steamers  caught  here  on  her  way  down — the  Paul 
Anderson — loaded  to  the  guards,  loaded  to  sinking,  loaded  to 
death ! but  no  matter.  After  that,  and  after  I had  paid  my 
fare  with  my  eyes  shut  (one  should  never  be  too  precipitate), 
they  found  room  for  six  hundred  bushels  of  coal,  seventy 
horses,  and  eight  hundred  turkeys  and  fowls,  which  poor 
things  had  been  kept  in  cellars  half  dead,  during  this  tremen- 
dous frost,  and  were  now  transferred  to  the  hurricane-deck, 
or  upper  roof  of  my  chosen  steamer.  Of  all  things  in  the 
world  I should  have  avoided  this  particular  Noah’s  ark. 
i This  boat  was  already  full  loaded,  but,  at  the  last  moment, 
and  two  hours  after  they  had  solemnly  promised  (like  the 
fibbing  “one,  two,  three”  of  the  auctioneer)  to  be  “gone,” 

I these  unhappy  horses  and  turkeys  appeared  on  the  wide 
i strand.  They  could  not  be  resisted.  What ! refuse  dollars  ! 

. what  signifies  going  down  in  the  middle  of  the  river ! or  any 
I additional  misery  to  silly  sentiment,  or  no  sleep  for  the  highly- 
favoured  cabin  passengers  for  a whole  week  or  ten  days. 

Well,  only  eight  hours  after  the  last  horse  had  been  coaxed 
on  board,  and  while  the  steam  valves  had  been  for  so  many 
hours  snorting  and  roaring  in  aid  of  advertisements  and 
solemn  promises,  then  a few  more  coals — only  six  hundred 
bushels — might  as  well  fill  up  all  round  the  boilers,  and  leave 
not  an  inch  to  plant  your  foot  on  the  deck,  and  not  an  encou- 
raging inch  of  seeming  spare  safety  for  the  rushing  river  and 
rock  ice  bursting  and  crushing  with  the  headlong  stream — at 


122 


IMMENSE  HETEROGENEOUS  CARGO. 


last,  I say,  we  push  off,  and  night  closes  around  us  as  we  j 
sweep  round  the  south  and  pretty  wooded  point  and  hills 
below  Covington.  We  bid  a kind  adieu  to  the  queen  city  for  > 
letting  us  go.  Surely  we  are  always  more  grateful  for  any 
change  of  any  particular  misery  than  for  any  positive  pleasure, 
or  any  positive  good,  if  we  ever  do  really  know  what  is  for  j 
our  good ! 

There  was  I,  delighted  to  get  awa}T,  even  for  a good  chance 
of  sinking  in  the  river  before  we  could  pass  the  first  lon  er  | 
reach,  the  night  dark  as  Erebus,  with  various  pleasant  opinions  j 
as  to  whether  we  weren’t  “ somehow,  I guess,  a sight  over-  , I 
loaded  !”  The  boat  was  a capital  one,  but  it  is  certain  we  I 
were  abominably  loaded,  dangerously  loaded.  Often  the  small  j 
ripple  of  the  river  flopped  over  the  guards,  washing  the  horses’  I 
feet  as  they  stood  in  two  rows  on  each  side  of  the  engines,  with  1 
their  heads  to  the  water,  where  they  might  poke  their  noses  I 
for  amusement,  poor  things. 

A loaded  cotton  boat  of  sis  lnuidred  or  a thousand  bales  is  j 
a curious  sight  on  these  mighty  streams ; hut  our  hetero-  ; j 
geneous  cargo  I saw  nowhere  equalled  all  the  way  down  to 
New  Orleans.  I forgot  to  add  some  three  or  four  hundred  1 
empty  flour  barrels,  on  which  the  unhappy  poultry  were  4 
perched,  on  the  roof.  This  floating  scene  of  suffering,  misery,  j 
and  death  (thirty  turkeys  were  thrown  over  dead  the  first 
night),  was  our  Belvidere  ! From  this  feathered  village  we  1 
were  to  enjoy  the  country,  the  view,  and  the  air ! 

Glad,  however,  as  we  were  to  be  off,  we  were  not  aware,  ' 
till  long  after,  of  our  singular  good  fortune  in  escaping ; for 
the  next  week,  the  wind  shifting  round  once  more  to  the  j I 
north-west,  froze  the  river  and  all  nature  up  as  hard  as  ever,  I] 
so  that  nothing  could  get  up  or  down. 

Well,  we  are  afloat.  We  have  had  our  tea  (or  supper).  I 
have  heard  several  sad  sounds  of  throwing  over  the  dead  and  ! 
dying  turkeys.  Of  the  ninety  or  hundred  passengers,  the  : 
rough  ones,  or  bachelor-loafers,  bagsmen,  planters,  and  others,  .> 
gather  and  smoke  in  the  fore-cabin  over  the  boilers  ; the  j 
family  men,  and  the  more  genteel  and  more  aspiring,  keep  at  j 
the  hinder  part  of  the  saloon  among  the  ladies,  or  as  near  , i 
them  as  possible,  round  the  nearest  stove. 

A gay  party  of  Tennessee  youth  sit  round  the  ladies’  table  < 
playing  “ yutah  ” (a  sort  of  New  AVorld  ecarte  and  pam-loo 
mixture).  A good-natured,  good-looking  Englishman,  settled 
in  New  Orleans,  who  is  returning  with  his  excessively  hard- 
featured,  grim  American  lady  home  from  a Saratoga  trip, 
invites  me  to  their  sanctum  (across  the  curtain  line).  Several 
of  the  girls  are  pretty,  and  all  very  lively.  I look  on,  and 
escape  the  more  stupid  ring  of  ruminating  males  round  the 
stove. 


EETEOSPECTIVE  GEANCE. 


123 


As  I can  mate  nothing  of  the  game  played  (by  any  number 
as  well  as  two),  I reflect  every  now  and  then,  at  every  extra 
thump  against  the  ice,  on  how  excessively  little  our  wooden 
deck  below  us  is  above  the  water ; one  of  our  coal-loaded 
river  barges  one  meets  in  the  Pool  is  nothing  to  this  exact 
scientific  nicety  between  floating  and  sinking.  The  idea 
alone  made  any  other  idea  of  a blow-up  perfectly  laughable. 
But  instead  of  philosophising,  let  me  now  take  a parting 
glance  at  Cincinnati ; a place  that  might  well  fill  a volume 
merely  to  say  what  it  has  become  since  Mrs.  Trollope  told  us 
something  about  it,  and  many  others  since  her  day. 

I have  spoken  of  a few  trifling  things  on  the  mere  surface, 
in  this  great  western  city,  which  has  often  been  written  about 
of  late  years  ; but  the  change  is  so  rapid  in  most  objects 
which  strike  the  eye,  that  hardly  any  one  year  is  a sure  guide 
for  the  next.  It  is  not  only  the  mere  building  of  more  streets 
aud  houses,  the  greater  number  of  human  beings  congregated 
together,  and  the  greater  mixture  of  each  added  year’s  emigra- 
tion, pom-ing  in  human  beings  already  grown  up  by  hundreds 
of  thousands,  but  the  yearly  change  of  ways  and  means,  aud 
no  doubt  a constant  change  in  the  domestic  manners  and 
ideas  of  all  Americans,  east  or  west  of  the  Mississippi.  I 
think  too  much  has  been  said  of  (of  the  morale,  at  least) 
Cincinnati,  and,  indeed,  all  other  great  American  towns  ; 
every  year  getting  still  bigger,  still  more  irregular  and  ill- 
governed,  where  all  sorts  of  civilized  nuisances  increase  much 
faster  than  the  population,  and  where  each  year  they  are 
coming  nearer  and  nearer  what  we  are  in  little  over-peopled 
England.  With  our  thoughts,  and  ways,  and  customs  slightly 
modified,  ’tis  still  the  same.  Por  the  first  fifty  years  we  In 
our  conceit,  and  insolence,  and  ignorance,  would  not  con- 
descend to  praise  anything,  or  know  anything,  about  our 
cousins,  who  licked  us  after  eight  long  years’  lighting,  and 
sent  us  an  ambassador  to  bow  and  walk  about  at  St.  James’s 
among  as  silly  and  selfish  a set  of  embroidered,  sneering 
gentlemen  as  may  be  found  there  now.  Time,  and  the 
astonishing  effects  of  a more  enlightened,  less  shackled  govern- 
ment begin  to  tell  on  the  the  toughness  of  our  ignorant  pre- 
judices. We  awake  from  a sort  of  dream  when  the  finest 
ships  to  be  seen  by  a Lord  Derby  at  Liverpool  (he  goes  on 
board  sometimes),  and  a Lord  John  in  the  Thames,  are  not 
ours,  alas  ! no,  they  are  Americans.  The  balance  and  bustle 
of  trade  all  over  the  world  is  every  new  year  turning  more 
aud  more  against  us.  Even  our  own  merchants  take  up  and 
freight  American  ships  ! Safer,  faster,  handsomer  than  Eng- 
land’s fleet,  more  numerous  all  over  the  world,  they  tower 
over  our  pigmy,  ill-built  things  even  in  our  own  waters,  and 
should,  descending  to  particulars,  shame  our  builders  at  Black- 


124 


VIGOTTK  IN  ESSENTIALS. 


wall.  I say  nothing  of  our  royal  dockyards,  as  they  are  quite 
impervious  to  any  new  lights,  and  seem  to  set  a premium  on 
blunders  and  absurdity. 

Innocent  of  all  this,  each  fresh  traveller,  however  wise  and 
common-place,  however  fashionable  and  funny,  is  now  loud 
about  the  wonders  of  America ! and  there  is  in  this  sense 
nothing  left  for  us  but  to  praise.  I might  wish  our  rulers 
would  come  across,  and  take  a lesson  in  these  vulgar  but  most 
essential  things — “domestic  manners ” may  be  safely  left  to 
triflers  and  wits.  American  strength  may  be  vulgar,  but  our 
fashion  is  contemptible ; nay,  with  us  it  works  fatally  : we 
are  all  supremely  ignorant  and  lazy,  and  each  jack-in-office, 
only  thinking  of  Almack’s,  Rotten-row,  and  his  circle;  is 
above  his  business,  content  to  ride  out,  shoot,  and  dress  for 
dinner ! 

Lord  Carlisle,  and  now  and  then  a clever  fellow,  crosses, 
and  witnesses  the  untrammelled  vigour  and  go-ahead  better 
sense  of  the  stars  and  stripes ; but  it  does  not  appear  that  we 
get  on  the  least  bit  the  better  for  it,  or  that  his  late  colleagues 
in  Downing-street  are  at  all  more  wide  awake  to  what’s  going 
on : but  I forget  myself,  and  this  same  town.  I saw  very  few 
of  them  ladies,  owing  to  the  extreme  cold,  no  doubt. 

What  we  should  call  the  working  classes,  seem  entirely 
Irish  and  German;  all  badly  clothed,  dirty,  and  slovenly, — 
the  streets,  the  pavements,  and  the  houses  to  match  ; indeed, 
the  better  sort  of  men,  natives,  are  not  so  well  dressed  as  in 
the  eastern  cities.  This  careless  neglect  may  he  traced,  in- 
creasing as  one  comes  westward,  in  their  ladies  and  gentle- 
men— that  is,  planters,  lawyers,  merchants,  and  large  store- 
keepers— it  pervades  everything,  naturally  enough,  the  further 
removed  they  are  towards  the  woods  and  prairies. 

Indeed,  short  of  the  Ohio,  in  Kentucky,  Virginia,  Tennes- 
see, and  Maryland,  people  of  education  dress  anyhow,  and 
wear  the  oddest  Jim  Crow  tiles  possible  ( Punch  would  be  in 
ecstasies  !): 

Just  now,  the  Kossuth  hat  is  the  thing — a wide-awake,  with 
a great  buckle  in  front,  to  which  some  of  the  most  respectable 
loafers  add  a small  black  feather.  Some  few  exquisites 
pride  themselves  on  velvet  caps  and  half  a yard  of  watch-chain 
dangling,  and  rattling  seals  at  the  waistband.  But  no  matter 
what  the  dress  is,  there  is  no  change  morning  or  night.  I 
have  known  Virginians,  men  of  education,  attend  balls  un- 
shaved, and  in  dirty  boots  and  uncombed  hair,  their  coats  and 
hats  (all  quite  right  when  new)  never  brushed,  nor  ever  left 
off  till  worn  out;  to  be  sure  there  were  exceptions- — the 
youngest,  of  course,  the  cleanest  and  smartest- — but  none  of  the 
ladies,  who  were  all  well-dressed,  seemed  to  think  anything  of  it. 
At  Cincinnati,  in  the  advertisements  for  their  balls,  the  gentle- 


UNPOLISHED  STOICS, 


125 


men  are  warned  tliat  there  is  no  admittance  (one  and  two 
dollars  a ticket)  without  a lady.  These  public  balls  prevail 
throught  the  Union  in  their  cities ; private  ones  are  very  rare 
indeed,  and  more  like  family  parties. 

Already  in  the  States  there  are  immense  seminaries  and 
hoarding-schools  for  young  ladies.  There  is  a far-famed  one 
in  Ohio,  at  Steubenville,  and  some  of  its  young  ladies  were 
on  board  of  us,  going  home  to  Tennessee  and  Mississippi ; but, 
like  that  other  young  lady  of  the  Alleghany  cars,  who,  too, 
had  just  left  her  great  school  near  Harrisburg,  they  seem  to 
pick  up  nothing  at  these  schools  but  the  most  wild,  silly, 
jejune  ideas  (from  each  other),  and  a very  queer,  independent 
small  talk.  As  yet,  however — perhaps  for  these  nest  hundred 
years — a refined  education  would  be  completely  thrown  away ; 
they  dress  and  dance — quite  enough. 

Fashion  and  refinement  of  thought,  perceptions  of  the  sub- 
lime and  beautiful,  tact,  good  taste,  and  a love  of  nature — 
where  nature  itself  is  to  be  upset,  and  the  sooner  the  better, 
up  and  down  these  rivers  and  regions — of  what  use  here  ? 
Whisky,  rum,  tobacco,  cotton,  pigs,  and  flour,  laugh  to  scorn 
small  conventional  elegancies  and  accomplishments — the 
dancing  and  dressing,  nevertheless,  notwithstanding,  when 

f froze  up,  or  in  the  season,  or  when  trade’s  slack.  This  must 
be  pre-eminently  the  feeling  at  Cincinnati ; which  is,  trade 
apart,  a very  dull  city  ; they  have  had  no  time  in  forty  short 
years  to  think  of  elegance  or  idle  amusements  ; but  youth, 
however  pent  up  in  stores,  will  dance  and  frolic  now  and  then, 
and  that,  as  Nym  says,  “ is  the  humour  of  it.” 

They  were  going  to  get  up  a dance  in  the  cabin  during  the 
evening,  but  the  young  ladies  could  not  agree  to  turn  out ; 
and  the  fiddler,  an  amateur  Englishman,  at  last  got  sulky, 
after  tuning  up  invitingly  once  or  twice,  and  put  up  his 
fiddle ; but  I do  not  think,  after  all,  the  girls  were  in  fault ; 
it  was  the  men  who  held  back,  stood  shilly-shally,  or  showed 
the  most  stoical  Eed  Indian  indifference — a quality  considered 
of  the  first  excellence  in  everything.  As  a rule,  I should  say, 
the  Americans  never  talk  till  excited  by  anger  or  some  self- 
t . interest ; and  then  it  is  an  interminable  set  speech,  and  thus 
their  cleverest  people  grow  into  bores  of  the  first  magnitude. 

Cincinnati  is  in  the  south-west  corner  of  the  state  of  Ohio, 
about  fifteen  miles  from  the  border  of  Indiana  ; so  that  quit- 
ting the  city  we  soon  leave  the  state  of  Ohio  at  the  river 
Miami  and  its  rich  bottoms.  Generally  it  is  a flat  wheat- 
growing state ; but  its  banks  all  down  the  stream  are-  finely 
undulated ; conical,  well-wooded  hills  forming  the  banks  of 
( the  river,  with  many  agreeable  openings  of  meadows  and 
small  valleys,  “bottoms,”  with  their  attendant  great  and 
small  streams  all  swelling  this  most  bold  and  beautiful  Ohio, 


RAPIDS  AT  LOUISVILLE. 


126 

which  lakes  its  rise  (as  the  Alleghany  does)  near  the  shores 
of  Lake  Erie  in  its  north  branch,  and  from  the  south-ivest  as 
the  Monongahela,  in  Pennsylvania. 

In  a peculiar,  wild,  bold  river  beauty,  nothing  can  exceed 
these  scenes,  right  and  left,  as  you  descend  ; it  seems  only  a 
little  hurt  where  man  has  been  chopping  and  digging  ; still, 
in  our  civilised  sense,  it  is  all  the  more  cheering,  and  makes  a 
rich  variety — cities,  villages,  farms,  factories,  steamers — and 
the  human  race  is  getting  multiplied.  I find  a hundred  things 
unsaid  of  this  city,  and  indeed  of  all  the  country  on  the  track 
of  the  river,  with  twenty  fine  streams  which  porn*  in  on  both 
sides,  besides  the  great  and  little  Miami,  joining  the  Ohio, 
twenty  miles  apart,  above  and  below  the  town,  each  watering 
superb  and  extensive  valleys — oue  stretching  to  the  capital, 
Columbus,  in  the  centre  of  the  state.  But  to  attempt  any 
further  notice  of  what  I leave  behind  me  would  fill  a volume 
or  two ; already  I find  myself  bewildered  by  fresh  objects 
and  new  settlements,  every  day  planting,  building,  and  in- 
creasing on  the  banks.  We  pass  the  Miami  a few  miles  below, 
forming  here  at  its  mouth  the  dividing  line  ; and  the  state  of 
Indiana  is  now  on  our  right,  while  Kentucky  keeps  on  below 
the  junction  with  the  Mississippi,  and  for  130  miles  on  the 
left  to  their  largest  city,  Louisville,  at  the  falls  of  the  river  ; 
and  where  a stupendous  short  two-mile  canal  is  cut  through 
just  below  the  town,  to  clear  this  great  rapid  (for  it  is  not 
exactly  a fall)  of  the  river.  This  rapid  is  always  the  one 
great  point  of  anxiety,  and  forms  a kind  of  barrier,  beyond 
which,  upwards,  the  larger  class  of  Mississippi  steamers  can- 
not come,  except  occasionally,  when  the  river  is  very  high ; 
so  that  there  is  always  a great  gathering  of  boats  at  Louis- 
ville, at  the  town  wharves,  and  below  the  canal  at  Shipping 
Port,  where  the  great  mail  and  passenger  steamers  lie. 

All  the  smaller  steamers  which  pass  the  canal  up  and  down 
are  for  cargo  and  passengers  jointly  ; their  cabins  and  tables 
on  a less  scale,  and  so  are  their  fares.  I paid  only  fifteen  dol- 
lars all  the  way  to  N cw  Orleans  from  Cincinnati,  whereas  these 
great  mail  steamers  charge  twenty-five  from  Louisville  down. 
They  were  very  liberal  to  us,  allowing  the  passengers  who 
preferred  it  to  leave  them  at  this  point,  and  go  on  board  the 
finer  boats ; but,  though  we  were  detained  half  a day  at  the 
canal,  I thought  it  best  to  remain  quietly  on  board,  as  most 
of  my  fellow-passengers  did  ; but  of  this  when  we  do  get  so 
far,  for  the  ice  is  seriously  troublesome,  and  we  are  not  at  all 
sure  we  may  not  be  stopped  by  it. 

I see  the  exact  distance  is  460  miles  by  the  river  from 
Pittsburg  to  Cincinnati,  and  494  miles  to  its  mouth,  making 
in  its  whole  length  954  miles,  without  reckoning  its  branches 
above  Pittsburg,  In  all  this  length  it  appears  a greater 


ITEM9  FOEGOT  OF  CINCINNATI. 


127 


river  than  the  Mississippi  itself ; it  is,  indeed,  often  wider. 
The  great  difference  lies  in  the  greater  depth  of  the  latter, 
which  it  is  lost  in  at  the  junction  at  Cairo,  where  the  Missis- 
sippi, even  after  receiving  the  Ohio,  looks  much  narrower 
than  the  Ohio. 

I do  not  often  venture  on  statistics,  as  too  dry : but  I am 
tempted,  while  yet  near  Cincinnati,  to  put  down  a few  items, 
which  should  by  rights  have  been  mentioned  before,  had  I 
more  room  to  enter  into  details.  Thus,  it  is  situated  in  a 
valley  forty  or  fifty  feet  above  the  river  at  its  medium  height, 
the  Ohio  cutting  this  valley  in  half,  the  southern  circumfer- 
ence of  the  surrounding  hills  being  (behind  Covington  and 
Kewton)  in  Kentucky.  The  town  was  laid  out  by  Messrs. 
Denman  and  Patterson,  in  1788,  and  was  first  called  Losan- 
; tiville,  on  the  site  of  Fort  Washington,  then  one  of  the  far- 
I west  military  stations  of  the  infant  republic,  from  whence  the 
Indian  wars  were  carried  on. 

The  first  purchase  of  311.000  acres  here  of  the  Indians, 
I stretching  along  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  was  by  an 
Honourable  John  Symmes.  There  were  two  or  three  settle- 
ments of  a few  hunters  at  this  time,  one  at  Hortli  Bend, 
fifteen  miles  below  it ; but  in  ’89  Government  fixed  on  its 
present  site,  changed  the  name,  and  ended  the  petty  rivalries 
'■  of  these  early  squatters  ; for  already  business  was  increasing 
■ up  and  down  the  river.  The  place  grew  rapidly.  The  first 
church  was  built  in  ’92 ; in  ’93  they  published  a daily  paper  ; 
in  ’94  two  “keel  boats”  were  built,  with  bullet-proof  covers 
: and  port-holes,  armed  with  guns  and  rifles,  to  run  upwards  as 
far  as  Pittsburg  and  back  once  a month.  Drinking  and  gam- 
bling were  then  the  chief  features  in  these  new  settlements. 
The  population  in  1795  was  but  five  hundred,  with  a small 
detachment  from  the  army. 

Early  in  this  century  their  progress  was  very  rapid  ; thou- 
sands poured  in  from  the  eastern  states,  attracted  by  the  rich- 
ness and  cheapness  of  land.  The  trade  with  Hew  Orleans, 
carried  on  with  keel-boats,  which  got  down  in  a month,  and 
up  again  in  about  three  months,  was  found  very  lucrative, 
making  amends  for  its  risks  and  tediousness,  having  often  to 
fight  their  way  up  and  down,  sometimes  against  the  Indians 
j they  had  made  their  enemies,  or  against  their  own  robbers 
and  pirates.  In  1819  it  was  first  made  a city,  and  contained 
10,000  souls  ; the  progression,  in  1830,  25,000 ; 1840,  46,000  ; 
in  1848,  100,000,  and  at  this  moment  160,000.  It  has  15,000 
houses,  ranging  in  regular  streets,  at  right  angles,  toward  and 
to  the  hills  at  the  back  two  miles,  and  oa  its  river’s  face  three 
miles.  It  has  seventy-four  churches,  three  colleges,  four 
medical  and  one  law ; one  female  college,  several  seminaries 
for  young  ladies ; four  grammar-schools,  and  twelve  popular 


12S 


RECENT  STATISTICS. 


schools  of  five  thousand  pupils ; six  hanks,  eight  large  public 
halls,  a court-house,  town-hall  and  jail,  three  civil  courts  sit- 
ting the  whole  year,  an  exchange,  a mayoralty  and  mayor’s 
office  ; several  public  libraries  belonging  to  societies  ; sixteen 
insurance  offices,  a post-office,  three  theatres  (but  only  one 
open  this  winter),  a museum,  water-works,  gas-works,  two 
hospitals,  four  orphan  asylums,  one  lunatic ; a great  many 
foundries,  cotton  and  woollen  factories,  and  many  others ; 
mills  of  all  kinds;  and  lastly,  the  great  pork-killing  and 
packing  warehouses  on  the  canal,  which  I have  spoken  of. 
Upwards  of  two  hundred  steam-engines  are  in  constant  acti- 
vity, “ driving”  the  machinery  of  planing-mills,  foundries, 
fkmr-mills,  saw-mills,  rolling-mills,  furniture  factories,  &c. 
They  estimate  invested  capital  in  this  every-day  stir  at 
25,000,000  of  dollars. 

But  the  press  is  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  feature  in 
this  activity — no  less  than  thirteen  daily  and  twenty-five 
weekly  newspapers  ! four  monthly  periodicals.  They  count, 
too,  seven  turnpikes,  two  great  canals,  a railroad  to  Sandusky 
on  the  lakes,  another  to  Columbus,  and  a general  telegraph ; 
two  great  cemeteries,  four  miles  off — that  of  Spring  Grove 
containing  a hundred  acres.  Grapes  succeed  very  well  all 
over  this  country,  and  a good  deal  of  tolerable  claret-like  wine 
is  made.  I find  these  are  but  a few  of  the  noticeable  things, 
but  I must  stop  ; besides,  all  this  so  changes  and  so  increases 
with  every  new  year,  that  it  would  be  absurd  to  dwell  on  it ; 
it  may,  however,  interest  a momentary  curiosity.  Not  that 
I think  one  need  be  so  much  in  love  with  the  dry  or  wet 
goods  of  this  world ; in  extending  streets,  the  multiplicity  of 
shops,  or  the  endless  struggles  of  trade  and  manufactures — • 
all  showing  the  increase  of  the  human  race,  and  the  contriv- 
ances to  feed  and  amuse  them— if  that  were  but  the  one  end 
and  aim ! 

Already,  in  this  fine  valley,  these  charming  hills  and 
streams,  some  of  the  beauty  is  gone  for  ever.  The  wild  and 
beautiful  denizens  of  these  woods  and  plains — the  deer,  the 
Indian — the  clearness  of  the  skies,  the  aroma  of  the  flowers 
on  these  wild  banks — all  gone  ! Man  jostles  man,  ruts  dis- 
figure the  earth,  and  stenches  fill  interminable  streets,  where 
a dense  population  drink  whisky,  feed  pigs,  and  higgle  over 
European  frippery.  How  many  hateful  passions  and  things 
are  here  engendered,  the  concomitants  of  all  populous  cities  ; 
not  to  mention  the  extraordinary  swarms  of  rats ! The  very 
atmosphere  at  times  is  as  dense  in  clouds  of  smoke  as  London 
itself ; and  this  comes  of  meddling  with  the  bowels  of  the 
harmless  earth,  as  ivell  as  that  “ saltpetre”  of  our  dear  hard’s 
scented  lord. 

Some  men  are  lost  in  the  greatness  which  looms  afar  in 


■WANTON  CEUELTY  OF  MAN. 


129 


other  centuries  to  come ; we  may  indeed  take  it  any  way, 
just  as  one  is  in  the  humour.  For  my  part,  I do  not  see  that 
the  earth  being-  more  peopled  is  any  great  blessing  to  the 
human  race.  What  is  China  better  for  her  three  hundred 
millions,  close  packed,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  animals  ? 
They  must  eat  rats  and  dogs,  even  as  dainties  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  half-starved  multitude.  As  to  the  astonishing 

flower  and  glory  of  this  race  or  that,  and  the  superior  en- 
ightenment,  science  and  arts,  and  superior  mode  of  killing 
each  other  in  greater  numbers,  what  a melancholy  farce  it 
is ! It  adds  nothing  to  all  the  happiness  we  are  susceptible 
of — not  a jot.  We  English  are  very  proud  of  spreading 
the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  the  most  inquisitive,  meddling,  and 
destructive  on  earth.  We  alter  or  destroy  everything  not 
squaring  with  our  very  limited  ideas ! W e make  killing 
all  the  lower  creation  our  amusement ! Soon,  soon  there  will 
be  no  beautiful  animals  left ; in  these  woods  and  plains  the 
bear,  the  deer,  the  buffalo,  the  beaver,  most  wantonly  de- 
stroyed : as  if  God  had  not  made  these  things — the  lion,  the 
ostrich,  nor  beasts  nor  birds  can  escape  the  destroyer  man. 
To  be  sure  there  is  some  hope  for  the  rattlesnakes  of  Wis- 
consin, for  rats,  and  for  the  fishes  of  the  deep  sea ; but,  alas  ! 
for  the  beautiful  beasts  and  birds,  not  the  most  entangled  forests 
can  conceal  them,  the  most  remote  island,  in  its  own  savage 
virtues,  innocence,  and  happiness.  A whaler  comes,  or  a 
meddling  Puritan  preacher,  or  a protectorate  ! and  all  the 
vice  and  misery  of  us  Europeans,  conspicuous  in  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race.  I am  going  down  the  Ohio ; but  a clever, 
gentlemanly  fellow,  a lieutenant-colonel,  who  writes  a pleasing 
book,  puts  me  in  mind  of  this  destroying  propensity. 

He  takes  a run  down  by  the  lakes  and  these  rivers,  chiefly 
to  kill  all  the-  unfortunate  birds,  prairie  cocks  and  hens 
(grouse),  he  can  bring  his  dog  and  double-barrels  to  bear  on, 
in  pure  wanton  amusement.  Strange,  that  men  should  thus 
cultivate  a taste  for  cruelty,  and  run  about  the  world  destroy- 
ing everything,  and  boasting  of  their  game-bags  and  battues. 
What  can  be  more  detestable  than  these  wanton  slaughters, 
whether  in  our  own  fields  or  west  of  Chicago  P Another  set  of 
rational  persons  gallop  all  day  after  a poor  fox.  Yes,  and  a Mr. 
Cumming,  par  excellence,  goes  slaughtering  by  wholesale  in 
Africa — highly  amused !— and  here  we  have  had  these  poor, 
withered  skin  trophies  at  Hyde-park-corner.  Ay,  conceded, 
the  more  risk  the  more  manly  the  sport : and  why  not  hunt  and 
shoot  each  other,  at  an  increased  risk,  at  which  we  have  such  a 
pious  horror  ? Can  we  wonder  at  a taste  for  war  P Oh.  no ; 
l the  pious  raise  their  eyes  and  their  voices,  and  chatter  of 
wickedness  and  sin,  but  not  a word  of  our  eternal  cruelties  to 
the  lower  creation : to  shed  their  blood,  or  worry  them  to  death, 

K 


130 


BARBER  FIDDLER — AND  APPLE  WHISKY. 


is  voted  a manly  amusement,  is  cultivated,  is  lauded ! — even 
our  priests  dare  to  kill  and  destroy  for  amusement ; worry  a 
poor  fox  or  liare  all  day,  and  boast  of  it  over  their  claret,  in 
the  teeth  of  our  Humane  Societies  ! But  I shall  only  whisper 
these  heterodox  and  most  outlandish  notions  to  the  ice-vexed 
Ohio.  By  the  way,  all  down  the  river,  sea-going  ships  are 
built  and  cleared,  even  to  farther  Inde,  from  Pittsburg, 
Marietta,  Cincinnati,  and  many  other  towns  on  its  hanks. 
When  the  river  is  high,  a frigate  might  sail  right  down,  over 
the  rapids  and  all,  to  sea,  and  now-a-days  may  be  towed  up 
again  by  a steamer ; not  that  it  is  done,  as  it  wouldn’t  pay  ; 
so  they  remain  attached  to  their  various  seaports,  built  some- 
what cheaper  than  in  the  yards  on  the  Atlantic. 

In  the  descent  of  the  Ohio  many  beautiful  islands  are 
passed ; sometimes  they  are  still  quite  wild,  sometimes  with 
farms  on  them.  “ Blennerhassit’s”  has  a curious  story  attached 
to  it ; once  owned  by  a citizen  of  that  name,  who  was  ruined 
by  being  connected  with  Aaron  Burr.  The  ruins  of  Iris  once 
fine  mansion  are  still  to  be  seen,  I believe ; he  himself  dying 
in  Germany  thirty  years  ago. 

After  all,  how  unsatisfactory  it  is  hurrying  down  this 
unique  river  in  this  way ; to  see  nothing  of  the  islands,  caves, 
salt-springs  (“salines”)  iron  mines,  and  coal,  exquisite  streams 
and  valleys  opening  out  on  us  every  twenty  or  thirty  miles  on 
both  sides.  Then,  again,  those  Indian  mounds,  which  are  so 
impenetrable  to  our  puzzled  archaeologists  and  antiquaries, 
speaking  of  some  departed  race,  it  maybe,  old  as  the  “Iliad.” 
The  largest  of  these  barrows  or  mounds,  like  all  of  them, 
overgrown  by  immense  forest  trees,  is  on  “ Big  Grave  Creek,” 
thirteen  miles  below  Wheeling,  at  Elizabeth  Town ; but  as 
we  passed,  and  are  now  passing,  so  many  objects  of  great 
interest,  everything  is  so  cold,  so  frozen  up,  that  one  is  glad 
to  sit  crouching  over  the  stove,  and  give  the  whole  river,  banks, 
islands,  and  all,  to  the  sharp  winds. 

I have  been  lucky  enough  to  get  a cabin  to  myself,  with 
nobody  sleeping  over  or  under  me  (all  the  cabins  have  double 
berths).  In  the  mornings  there  are  the  usual  ablutions  at 
the  one  comb  and  jack-towel  (I  never  saw  the  “ one  tooth- 
brush”) in  the  barber’s  shop,  ivhere,  too,  the  bar  deals  out 
its  fire-water,  the  bar-keeper  adding  a private  spec  of  very 
insipid  apples.  Piccayunes  rain  on  his  counter  for  the  fruit  in 
its  innocent  shape ; but  he  has  a good  store  of  it  condensed 
in  the  shape  of  apple-whisky,  strictly  guarded,  at  a whole 
dime  a small  glass,  showing  an  imperturbable  love  of  morality 
— and  dimes.  The  barber,  a young  handsome  mulatto  man, 
had  music  in  his  soul,  and  when  his  chair  was  not  filled  by 
any  of  his  numerous  helpless  victims,  would  teach  himself 
music  on  that  most  cantankerous  of  viols,  the  violin ; but  he 


DAEK  TYBANT  STEWABDESS.  131 

liacl  heard  of  Paganini,  or  “ Old  Dan  Tucker,  way  down  in 
Old  Virginy !” 

All  our  cabin  servants  at  table  were  smart,  handsome,  saucy 
young  citizens,  who  treated  us  all  very  much  (le  liaut  en  has,  and 
cleared  us  out  of  the  way  of  their  dinner-table  cloths  and  mid- 
night mattresses,  when  they  spread  them  on  the  floor  about  the 
stoves  without  ceremony.  The  porter,  however,  was  a real, 
virtuous  Uncle  Tom,  who  kindly  polished  the  boots  at  a dime 
(5d.)  a pair,  and  to  whom  all  portmanteaus  and  bags  paid  toll 
for  lifting  them  in  and  out  of  your  cabin,  at  a dime  a-piece  ; it 
was  imperative,  but  enforced  with  an  obsequious  flourish,  and 
display  of  white  grinders  and  laughing  whites  of  eyes — “ Well 
sa,  dat’s  de  way  we  fix  it  down  clis  way,  anyhow.”  There  was 
but  one  more  bit  of  ebony,  in  the  shape  of  a very  tall,  dry 
creature,  and  excessively  dignified  and  serene,  in  the  shape  of 
a cabin  stewardess.  The  ladies  were  often  irate  at  her  ex- 
cessive tyranny  and  sauce ; at  which  she  looked  down  on 
them  with  an  expression  of  mild  contempt,  when  they  ven- 
tured to  remonstrate  at  anything  very  audacious — not  often, 
for  no  people  in  the  world  display  a more  stoical  indifference 
for  small  annoyances  : perhaps,  indeed,  they  do  not  feel  them 
at  all,  as  there  is  no  great  nicety  anywhere  in  this  young 
country.  I followed  this  plan,  and,  however  vexed,  never 
said  a word,  but  fixed  my  mind  on  the  stern  Indian  under 

(torture,  and  the  great  spirit ! I have  said  nothing  of  the  big 
bones  found,  and  now  mostly  gathered  up,  at  Big-bone-lick- 
creek,  in  Kentucky.  But  we  have  got  the  mastodon  and 
Arctic  elephant,  I think,  in  Great  Bussell-street.  The  oft- 
recurring  word  “lick,”  marks  all  those  spots  where  the  wild 
or  tame  quadrupeds  licked  the  salt  oozing  from  the  many 
saline  springs  along  the  tributaries  to  the  Ohio.  We  pass 
the  Kentucky  river — a stream,  in  grandeur,  said  to  be  nearly 
equal  to  the  Hudson ; but  all  these  great  tributaries  have 
their  peculiar  beauties — sometimes  running  for  hundreds  of 
miles  through  a succession  of  delicious  valleys,  with  fifty  or 
a hundred  mills  already  on  their  banks,  or  rushing  through 
glens,  having  eaten  their  way  down  through  the  hard  lime- 
stone hills  for  hundreds  of  feet,  with  their  deep  narrow  beds 
unfathomable.  How  exquisitely  romantic  must  a ramble  be 
amidst  these  scenes  in  summer — the  Indian  summer,  at  any 
rate — for  I should  not  like  to  trust  massa  mosquito,  and  one 
ought  to  be  well  shod  for  rattlesnakes. 

Bine  marbles,  coal,  and  iron,  abotmd  all  over  this  country  in 
grand  profusion ; but,  indeed,  so  does  every  rich  and  good 
thing  in  nature — in  water,  earth,  and  air.  In  these  rich 
valleys  (“bottoms”)  and  plains  wheat  and  Indian  corn  is 
raised  in  immense  quantities,  and  forms  the  great  staple  of 
the  west ; millions  of  bushels  are  destroyed1  to  make  burning 
K 2 


132 


RICH  VARIETY  OF  SOUNDS. 


whisky,  which,  coloured,  &c.,  is  the  New  England  nun, 
another  of  their  great  staples. 

I find  I must  avoid  digressions,  and  get  on  faster ; or  would 
I paint  the  kickings  of  the  poor  horses— the  horrid  screechings 
of  the  brutal  animals  in  charge,  knocking  them  about — the 
constant  ringing  of  the  engine  bells  (everything  is  expressed 
to  and  from  the  engineer  and  the  helmsman  and  pilot  by 
certain  strokes  and  ringings  of  the  bells  on  board  all  the 
American  steamers) — the  dead  plutf  sound  of  the  poor  dead 
turkeys  as  they  were  thrown  over — the  harsh  gratings  of  the 
snags  and  log3  as  they  rubbed  along  our  sides,  or  stuck  in  the 
floats,  were  hurled  on  the  guards,  together  with  floes  of  the 
floating  ice — the  incessant  cavernous  howling  whistle  of  the 
waste  steam-pipe,  and  the  occasional  unearthly  scream  of  the 
whistle — the  rounding-to  at  various  towns  to  get  wood  or 
coal,  take  in  or  send  out  passengers — all  this  made  an  incessant 
uproar,  which  defied  sleep.  Besides,  I could  not  help  think- 
ing of  our  being  loaded  to  the  last  half  inch  of  floating  capa- 
city ; and  how  the  least  hitch — (a  small  snag,  a plank  cut 
through,  or  any  trifle,  if  only  decently  loaded),  might  send  us  ] 
all  down  on  the  instant.  The  boilers  blowing  up  quite  a | 
secondary  consideration — not  worth  considering  at  all. 

Well,  I shut  my  eyes  all  night.  We  arrived  all  safe  at 
Louisville  early  next  day,  and  made  ourselves  fast  to  an  out- 
side steamer  lying  at  the  wharf,  the  Greek  Slave.  She  has 
already  found  her  way  here.  What  a California  is  fame  ! but 
surely  never  was  there  such  a piece  of  humbug  as  that  much 
ado  about  nothing  Greek  slave  in  Hyde-park.  There  were 
fifty  statues  at  our  Exhibition  of  greater  merit,  particularly 
in  the  Austrian  marble  court. 

The  Ohio  here  at  Louisville  is  particularly  wide  and  grand. 
Passing  over  a wide  ledge  of  rocks  opposite  the  town,  it  forms 
these  rapids  for  about  two  miles.  The  canal  of  two  miles  is 
cut  through  the  solid  rock,  in  some  places  forty  feet  deep. 
The  first  steamer  passed  through  in  1816.  There  is  an  island 
near  the  town,  which  stands  on  the  higher  bank  of  the  river, 
and  commands  a fine  view  of  the  country,  and  Indiana  oppo- 
site. The  place  is  full  of  factories,  foundries,  and  building 
yards,  and  is,  though  not  the  capital,  the  largest  town  in 
Kentucky,  going  ahead  extremely  of  late  years. 

Some  boats  were  before  us  in  the  canal,  so  we  waited  our 
turn,  and  many  of  us  passengers  went  on  shore  across  other 
steamers  and  hundreds  of  cotton  bales,  scattered  about  the 
strand  and  trod  on  by  anybody.  Its  population  is  60,000  or 
70,000,  and  they  have  all  sorts  of  halls,  theatres,  institutions, 
asylums,  &c.,  to  be  found  in  all  their  cities,  no  matter  how 
new.  All  well  built,  too,  mostly  in  brick,  but  of  grand  propor- 
tions, and  always  well  fitted  for  their  purposes.  Here,  too, 


PASS  LOUISVILLE  LOCKS. 


133 


they  have  four  daily  and  twelve  weekly  newspapers ; and  kill- 
ing and  curing  pork  one  of  the  many  great  speculations.  Here, 
too,  they  build  steam-boats,  and  make  vast  quantities  of  iron 
machinery  for  the  steamers  on  all  the  western  waters.  Ou 
these  rivers,  six  years  ago,  they  reckoned  no  less  than  1300, 
valued  at  16,000,000  ! and  4000  keel  and  flat  boats ; the  total 
value,  even  then,  of  all  the  products  floated  on  these  waters, 
260.000,000;  of  the  whole  commerce  (inland  joined)  400,000,000 
to  500,000,000  (dollars),  double  the  amount  of  the  foreign 
commerce  of  the  whole  United  States.  The  average  of 
steam-boats  lost,  sunk,  or  blown  up,  about  fifty  per  annum. 

The  river  is  full  of  snags,  logs,  and  ice,  here  very  con- 
spicuous in  their  accelerated  motion.  Several  log  and  timber 
fishers  dart  out  in  their  canoes  and  dingies,  in  spite  of  the  ice, 
and  catch  any  plank  or  log  straying  within  safety  distance  of 
the  rapids. 

In  a fit  of  pity  and  disgust  at  being  forced  to  see  all  our 
five  cargo  suffering,  I went  on  shore,  resolved  to  change  my 
- steamer ; but  after  I had  got  across  all  the  cotton  and  all  the 
mud,  I could  find  no  steam-boat-otfice,  and  nothing  but  dirty 
grog-shops  and  hucksters  all  along  the  front  street.  One  man 
told  me  I had  better  get  a hackney-coach  to  go  down  to 
Portland,  or  Shipping  Port — but  where  get  one  ? We  were 
not  told  at  what  moment  our  steamer  might  let  go  the  Greek 
Slave,  and  enter  the  canal,  so  that  I was  afraid  to  go  up  aud 
find  one,  or  look  about  the  town.  Besides,  my  trunk  was  on 
board,  and  we  were  told  we  should  be  off  directly,  a dodge 
of  the  captain’s,  who,  though  a fine-looking  fellow,  was  over 
taciturn  to  us  men,  and  over  talkative,  I thought,  to  the 
ladies  ; but  both  he  and  his  clerk,  (who  took  the  head  of  the 
table  and  fair  sex  by  turns,)  were  smart  men,  and  particularly 
gallant ; indeed,  they  were  the  greatest  beaux  on  board. 
Altogether,  I thought  it  best  to  put  up  with  the  ills  we  had. 

1 Every  mile  below  this  town  on  to  Cairo  (near  500  miles), 
most  things  would  be  easier,  the  weather  warmer,  less  ice  in 
the  rivers,  and  even  the  poor  turkeys,  I hoped,  rejoice  in  a 
little  sun,  to  dry  them  and  their  wretched  coops.  In  short, 

■ hy  sunset  we  entered  the  canal,  and  by  midnight  found  our- 
selves below,  clear  of  the  last  sluice-gate,  at  Shipping  Port, 
among  the  grand  Mississippi  steamers.  The  charge  is  no  less 
than  150  dollars  per  steamer ; if  by  the  river  down  the  rapids, 
45  dollars  to  the  pilot. 

We  did  not  find  less  but  more  ice  as  we  progressed ; and, 
out  of  the  sun  next  day,  the  air  so  cold  as  to  freeze  on  the 
shady  side  of  the  boat.  How  began  our  wooding,  every  few 
hours,  at  the  wood  depots  on  the  wild  forest  banks,  where  the 
wood-cutters  have  it  corded  ready,  or  placed  corded  in  scows 
fast  to  the  banks,  so  that  the  steamer  roimds-to  beside  them. 


134 


INNUMERABLE  RIVERS. 


Tlie  bargain  is  made  (from  two  to  three  dollars  the  cord),  and 
the  crew  soon  throw  it  on  board,  where  it  forms  a great  pile, 
with  coal,  and  hay  for  the  horses,  in  the  bow  of  the  boat,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  fire-grates. 

Next  day  we  pass  many  spots,  all  of  more  or  less  interest, 
impossible  to  notice — Salt  River — Sinking  Creek,  where 
there  is  a cave,  a wonderful  cave,  with  basins  of  pure  water 
on  its  floor,  confined  by  natural  sides  of  stone  “ as  thin  as 
the  blade  of  a knife.” 

Lady  Washington  rock,  standing  out  boldly;  Bonharbor 
coal-mines  ; Green  River,  in  Kentucky,  famous  for  its  Mam- 
moth Cave.  This  river  is  navigable  to  the  cave,  1G5  miles. 

It  is  almost  incredible  that  stupendous  cave  should  be  known 
to  extend  eighteen  miles,  and  is  supposed  but  a small  part  of 
it,  with  more  than  200  avenues,  forty-seven  domes,  eight 
cataracts,  several  rivers.  The  mouth  of  this  wonderful  cave 
is  on  a plain,  entering  its  mouth  by  a romantic  dell.  The 
first  vestibule  is  200  feet  long  by  150  feet  wide,  and  60  feet 
high,  as  smooth  as  a plastered  wall ; but  the  wonders  increase, 
and  I must  cease. 

Gothic  halls,  cathedrals,  star  chambers ; the  temple,  with  a 
roof  120  feet  high,  covering  an  area  of  two  acres.  Here, 
indeed,  man  may  ruminate  on  his  insignificance.  All  this, 
and  eighteen  miles  more  of  it,  far  underground ! Some  day 
we  shall, ;;(nay,  we  should  have,  travels  in  the  Great  Mam- 
moth Cave,  in  three  volmnes. 

Half-way  down  the  Ohio  nearly,  we  come  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Wabash  (Indiana),  which  is  navigable  for  river  craft  for 
four  hundred  miles,  running  through  the  centre  of  the  State,  j 
A hundred  miles  up  it  is  the  notorious  Harmony,  bought  in 
1824  of  the  German  Harmonites  by  our  Robert  Owen,  of 
Lanark,  to  try  his  social  system,  which,  as  it  deserved,  soon 
broke  up. 

Lower  down,  at  “ Cave  in  Rock,”  Mason  and  his  gang  of 
river  pirates,  hung  out,  and  plundered  the  loaded  boats  on  the 
river.  He  was  shot  at  length,  and  his  gang  dispersed.  Then 
we  pass  the  Cumberland  River  on  the  left.  Below  this  comes  i 
in  the  Tennessee  River,  the  largest  tributary,  a river  of  1200  j 
miles  long,  and  navigable  for  boats  for  a thousand  miles.  At 
its  mouth  is  the  town  of  Paducah.  Here  the  Ohio  is  very 
wide  and  wild,  the  shores  getting  lower,  with  rarely  any  of 
those  hills  on  its  banks  seen  higher  up,  but  everywhere  dense 
forests,  where  not  cleared  in  iiatches  by  farms,  or  in  semi- 
circles'round  towns  and  villages  near  the  water. 

I forgot  to  mention  Evansville,  two  hundred  miles  below 
Louisville,  in  Indiana,  a smart,  fast-increasing  town,  quoted 
as  one  of  the  .most  trading,  enterprising  places  on  the  river. 
We  put  into  the  boat-office  for  a moment,  though  the  ice 


THE  MISSISSIPPI — CAIEO. 


135 


resisted  us  a good  deal ; but  our  boat  behaved  nobly,  and 
cared  nothing  for  snags,  nor  ice,  nor  anything,  and  toot  us  on 
at  the  rate  of  seven  or  eight  miles  an  hour  through  all  ob- 
structions. I felt  sorry  when  at  last  we  arrived  beside  one  of 
the  old  steam -boat  floating  “ hotels,”  at  the  muddy  flat  bank 
in  the  wild  woods  of  the  far-famed  Cairo.  If  it  is  not 
Dickens’s  “ Eden,”  it  deserves  to  be — a desolate  group  of 
board  houses  at  the  junction  of  these  mighty  rivers.  Here  all 
is  level  forest  swamp.  They  have  raised  a kind  of  ditch, 
called  a levee,  to  keep  out  the  rivers  from  the  little  patch  of 
land  they  have  cleared  behind  these  dreary-looking  habita- 
tions. A few  idle,  sickly-looking  men  lounged  on  the  guards 
of  their  floating  stores  and  hotels’  decks.  (Old  worn-out 
steamers  are  thus  employed  at  various  places  up  and  down 
these  rivers.) 

An  English  and  American  company  have  alternately  tried 
to  settle  this  pestiferous  spot.  Our  company  made  it  a 
monopoly  in  worthless  land,  over-built,  and  ruined  them- 
selves. 

About  a hundred  people  still  vegetate  here ; they  cannot  be 
said  to  live,  for  they  look  half-dead,  and  seem  to  long  to  escape. 
The  miasma  must  be  terrible  indeed  to  deter  desperate  men 
from  attempting  to  settle  in  so  eligible  a spot  for  trade. 
People  are  never  agreed  as  to  the  particular  complexion  of 
this  fever,  from  which  none  escape — a sort  of  yellow  fever 
and  ague,  common  to  all  this  country  in  a milder  form. 

And  now  comes  that  stupendous  dead  level,  stretching  along 
the  wide  plain  of  the  Mississippi  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico ; 
nothing  but  wild  forests  and  flats,  with  just  a strip  on  each 
side  of  the  river  of  a mile  wide,  cleared  by  the  planters,  from 
within  150  or  200  miles  above,  to  New  Orleans,  cultivated  in 
cotton,  sugar-cane,  Indian  com,  rice,  and  tobacco.  Another, 
the  only  source  of  wealth  higher  up  and  hereabouts,  is  fire- 
wood, cut  and  corded  along  the  banks,  for  the  steamers.  At 
these  depots  live  a few  miserably  sickly  wood-cutters  hi  as 
miserable  plank  shanties.  They  put  one  in  mind  of  plants 
under  a board,  or  shut  out  from  the  sun  and  light.  Long, 
thin,  feeble,  never  well,  never  ill,  not  ill  enough  to  drop  their 
axes  and  take  to  their  beds — if  they  have  any,  doubtful. 
Even  these  men  do  not  own  the  wood  they  sell.  The  owner, 
some  planter,  employs  them,  and  himself  rides  a long  way 
through  the  woods  to  look  after  them  occasionally,  see  what 
they  are  at,  and  collect  his  dollars.  We  saw  several  speci- 
mens of  these  wood  proprietors,  “half  horse,  half  alligator,” 
all  wild  originals  to  a man,  and  in  the  most  odd-looking  gar- 
ments ; loose  boots,  with  red  tops,  dragged  over  loose  trou- 
sers, with  a sky-blue  coat,  or  grey,  and  a felt  hat  of  every 
possible  shape,  serving  as  a parasol  or  umbrella,  as  the  case 


136 


WOODING  ON  THE  BANKS. 


might  be.  These  dollar-making  individuals  we  hailed  as  we 
approached  their  depots. 

“ How’s  your  wood  ?” 

“ Two-and-a-half,  no  drift.” 

“ Two-and-a-quarter  r” 

“No.” 

The  skipper,  maybe,  thinks  the  wood  looks  rather  queer, 
too  rotten,  or  mixed  with  too  much  drift-logs,  so  on  we  go ; 
perhaps  goes  from  Indiana  bank  over  to  Kentucky  bank,  or 
from  ’Kansus  to  Tennessee,  hails  another  : 

“What’s  your  wood?” 

“ Three.  First-rate ; hickory  and  oak  real,  and  no  mistake.” 

“ Konnd-to.” 

A young  wood  meter  jumps  on  shore,  measures  off  (for 
they  don’t  trust  to  soi-disant  measurements),  and  in  half  an 
hour  we  have  the  wood,  about  eight  or  ten  cords  at  a time, 
and  off  again.  Cash  is  always  paid. 

The  sort  of  wood  and  price  are  placarded  on  boards,  gene- 
rally chalked  up,  at  these  spots,  but  not  often  to  be  clearly 
made  out.  I observed  both  parties  are  extremely  laconic  ; no 
questions  asked,  no  talk  ; and  here,  cut  off  from  the  rest  of 
the  world,  from  everything  supposed  to  interest  human  beings, 
they  never  make  the  smallest  request  for  news  of  any  sort,  or 
even  look  at  us  or  our  pretty  girls,  (who  show  their  faces  at 
their  cabin  windows,)  with  the  least  curiosity  or  interest  what- 
ever. 

In  our  course  downwards  we  pass  some  few  cotton-loaded 
steamers,  a shade  slower  than  ourselves,  and  some  of  the 
mail-steamers  passed  us;  now  and  then  a Yankee  pedlar’s 
floating  store  of  notions,  or,  like  Banvard’s  beginning,  loaded 
with  “ calico  for  bees’-wax.”  They  drift  along  with  the  cur- 
rent, with  a long  oar  to  steer  by;  that  is,  to  put  their  floating 
shanty  on  shore,  where  they  can  make  bargains.  All  down 
we  took  in  passengers.  Among  others,  a party  of  young 
fellows,  well-dressed,  with  small  wagons  and  horses,  carrying 
some  thousands  of  fruit-tree  slips  for  grafting  peach,  cherry, 
and  apple  orchards.  They  landed,  I think,  at  Memphis,  and 
thus  traverse  various  states  ; grafting  insured  at  a dime  a tree. 
Surely  an  admirable  plan  for  all  parties. 

But  one  word  en  passant  of  the  Upper  Mississippi,  which, 
from  its  source  in  the  small  lake  of  Itasca  to  Cairo,  where 
the  Ohio  joins  it,  innumerable  noble  rivers  pour  into  it,  not 
to  mention  the  grand  Missouri.  Its  upper  course  above  the 
Falls  of  St.  Anthony  is  said  to  be  1100  miles,  where  it  is  600 
yards  wide,  hilling  over  a limestone  ridge  seventeen  feet. 

For  700  miles  farther  down  to  St.  Louis,  its  features  are 
everywhere  magnificent.  Beautiful  islands,  limestone  rocky 
bluffs  of  400  or  500  feet  perpendicular  on  the  river  in  some 


GRAXDEUE  OF  THE  UPPEK  MISSISSIPPI. 


137 


places,  distant  and  proximate  mountains,  noble  rivers  and 
tbeir  opening  valleys ; its  rapids  at  tlie  junction  of  Eock 
Elver  and  Des  Moines,  must  make  this  scene,  for  variety  and 
grandeur,  quite  unique,  even  in  this  magnificent  western  world. 

All  this  kind  of  beauty,  however,  ceases  before  it  reaches 
Cairo.  We  see  nothing  but  an  island  off  the  point,  and  must 
imagine  the  rest.  In  its  onward  course  the  great  Mississippi 
has  nothing  but  its  deep,  boiling  whirlpool,  sullen,  turbulent 
grandeur,  as  it  rolls  silent  and  dangerous  to  the  ocean. 

It  is  low  just  now,  and  may  be  from  half  to  a mile  wide  or 
more  ; but  when  swollen  in  the  spring,  it  rises,  at  a medium, 
fifty  feet,  floods  the  great  forest  plains  on  both  sides,  and 
rushes  on,  in  some  places  thirty  miles  wide,  through  the 
woods,  a waste  of  terrific  muddy  waters.  Still  the  channel 
can  be  traced  by  the  eye  to  those  navigating  the  stream,  no 
farther  than  the  wall  of  forest-trees  which  follow  the  course 
of  the  river  on  either  hand. 

It  is  a curious  fact  that  this  prodigious  rise  is  so  lowered 
and  absorbed  by  its  spread,  and  into  innumerable  channels, 
that  in  the  course  of  1000  or  1200  miles,  at  Natchez,  it  is 
lowered  to  thirty  feet,  and  at  Baton  Eouge,  above  New 
Orleans,  to  ten  or  twelve.  I confess  I was  not  sorry  to  go 
down  it  hi  its  more  quiet  state.  AVe  often  see  its  sandbanks 
bare,  and  can  mark  the  new  growth  of  young  timber  nursery- 
grounds,  where  it  has  quitted  one  side  for  the  other,  and 
where  it  has  made  its  “ cuts-off”  across  its  earlier  windings. 
We  followed  the  main  stream  through  some  of  these  new 
cuts  ; at  others  we  were  forced  to  follow  the  bayou  round, 
often  almost  in  a complete  circle,  for  it  is  singularly  tortuous 
all  the  way  down. 

Leaving  the  Ohio,  the  weather  grows  colder  ; it  rains  first, 
then  snows,  and  the  woods  are  covered  with  a white  mantle, 
so  we  have  not  at  all  got  rid  of  the  winter,  though  some  of 
our  days,  descending,  were  sunny  and  pleasant. 

We  find  a great  deal  of  loose  ice  coming  down  from  the 
Upper  Mississippi ; it  makes  our  situation  more  critical,  and 
in  some  of  the  wide  reaches  the  waves  make  a complete  breach 
over  the  boat’s  deck ; but  as  we  are  something  less  oppressed 
with  load  by  the  ordinary  consumption  each  day,  we  can 
afford  to  dash  through  waves,  snags,  and  ice.  During  the 
day  it  is  but  pleasantly  exciting,  and  relieves  the  monotony 
of  the  scene,  for  one  can  see  nothing  from  the  roof  of  our 
boat  but  the  far-stretching  turbid  river,  and  interminable 
forests,  and  so  on  to  each  town. 

Wc  pass  New  Madrid,  in  Missouri  state,  on  the  right,  the 
scene  of  a very  severe  earthquake  in  1811 ; it  raised  some 
neighbouring  lakes  and  drained  others,  so  that  corn  is  grown 
where  they  once  -were,  while  the  banks  of  the  river  were  for 


138 


MEMPHIS  AND  VICKSBUKG. 


hundreds  of  yards  swallowed  up  in  the  stream.  The  town 
itself  was  sunk  twenty  feet;  hut  this  is  an  old  story,  and  a 
mile  or  two,  more  or  less,  of  mud  hank  is  not  missed. 

Memphis  is  very  pleasantly  situated  on  one  of  the  Chicka- 
saw bluffs,  but  they  should  be  called  gentle  hills — they  are 
nothing  like  the  grand  limestone  perpendicular  bluffs  above.  I? 
Government  have  established  a navy-yard  here,  and  there  is 
an  active  commerce  up  and  down  the  river,  being  the  only 
point  fit  for  it  on  either  side  for  COO  miles,  down  to  Vicks-  ! 

burg.  It  is  backed  by  a great  cotton-growing  country ; 
120,000  bales  are  said  to  be  annually  sent  on  board  here.  i 
Population  about  12,000.  The  mouths  of  large  rivers 
coming  in  right  or  left  are  barely  perceptible.  The  Arkan- 
sas River,  in  its  state,  now  on  our  right,  is  one  of  these, 
inferior  only  to  the  Missouri;  its  course  said  to  he  2000  I 
miles. 

I will  mention  a few  other  names  as  singular.  We  pass 
the  Yazoo,  which  is  joined  by  the  Yellabusha  and  Tallehat- 
chee,  160  miles  above  its  mouth ; all  these  rivers,  great  and 
small,  send  dozens  of  cotton-loaded  steamers  down  the  great 
stream.  Keeping  on  the  even  tenor  of  our  way,  we  arrived 
at  Vicksburg,  famous  for  its  gamblers  and  Lynch  law ; but 
all  this  is  changed.  It  is  now  a very  quiet,  respectable  place 
of  many  factories,  and  much  trade  in  cotton  and  dry  goods, 
and  on  the  most  beautiful  spot  I have  yet  seen,  called  a bluff, 
rising  grounds,  and  pretty  hills. 

We  stopped  here  an  hour  or  two  for  goods  and  passengers. 

A Vicksburg  loafer,  with  his  great  beard,  came,  towel  in  hand 
(he  was  dressing),  out  of  his  room  at  the  old  steam-boat 
(hotel)  as  we  sidled  up  to  it,  and  I,  jumping  on  the  hotel 
deck,  ran  up  the  bank  to  get  a paper  at  the  Press  office,  but 
I was  told  none  were  out  yet,  as  the  President’s  speech  had 
taken  extra  hours  to  strike  off 

By  this  time  our  milk  was  exhausted,  and  we  were  in  hopes 
of  a fresh  supply  at  breakfast ; but  the  steward  contrived  not 
to  get  any — a small  saving.  Altogether,  however,  our  table 
was  not  bad,  considering  the  lowness  of  our  fare  (in  dollars). 
Here  we  took  on  board  a family  going  to  Texas  with  their 
slaves.  Poor  things  ; the  females  excessively  ugly,  dirty,  and 
ill-dressed.  The  master  and  mistress  poorer  than  their  slaves, 
but  not  in  rags.  Some  looked  serious,  but  not  so  deeply  so 
as  their  master  and  mistress  ; some  smiling  and  lively.  But 
a party  of  lads  who  came  on  board  somewhere  lower  down 
were  as  gay  and  nearly  as  well  dressed  as  our  gentlemen’s 
sons ; they  had  been  hired  somewhere,  and  had  all  the  live- 
liness and  easy  assurance  of  boys  leaving  school.  One  can 
never  judge,  however,  by  appearances,  either  of  happiness  or 
misery ; and  I always  suspect  conversations  got  up  by  travel- 


NOTIONS  OF  FBEEDOM  AND  SLAYEBY. 


139 


lers  by  a set  of  pointed  questions  to  any  slave  met  in  a 
steamer  or  hotel,  or  on  liis  own  master’s  estate  ! — “ Would 
you  hke  your  freedom  ?”  Of  course — the  bare  word  (as  that 
of  slavery  is  odious)  is  dear  to  us  all,  and  yet  how  often  does 
it  mean  nothing — sometimes,  I am  convinced,  hunger,  wretch- 
edness, and  despair,  They  may  be  free,  when  old,  to  starve ; 
and  as  to  a life  of  daily  hard  work  on  one  farm,  or  in  one 
village,  what  slave  ever  drudged  in  serious  monotonous  cheer- 
lessness, from  youth  to  old  age,  more  hopelessly  than  our 
own  farming  labourers  ? The  whole  world  is  for  ever  dis- 
puting about  words — shifting  from  facts  to  abstract  ideas, 
backwards  and  forwards,  to  suit  the  momentary  purpose. 

Here  is  the  Englishman’s  American  lady  thinks  her  slaves 
the  happiest  creatures  on  earth  (and  it  is  true  of  house  slaves), 
but  is  very  indignant  at  the  idea  of  kissing  the  Queen’s  hand ! 
and  yet  she  would  go  to  court — she  would,  if  she  ever  went 
to  London. 

“My  dear,  you’d  have  to,”  says  the  attentive  husband, 
“ when  presented.” 

At  which  she  looks  awful  daggers,  with,  “ W ell,  I guess 
she’d  never  catch  me  a kissing  her  hand ; no,  I’d  not  demean 
myself  so  low — let  her  slaves  do  it.” 

I think  there  was  nothing  passed  on  board  all  the  way 
down  very  amusing.  I was  in  hopes  to  have  seen  more 
originals,  and  expected  to  see  some  turn-ups  among  a set  of 
card-players  among  the  loafers  and  sharpers,  who  were  occa- 
sionally joined  by  a judge,  a lawyer,  and  a planter,  whose 
families  were  on  board.  They  sometimes  played  all-fours, 
sometimes  the  constant  game  of  yutah  ; often  sitting  up  till 
midnight  playing  for  dollar  stakes  : but,  except  a little  awful 
swearing  at  each  other  between  two  cronies,  nothing  occurred 
— no  “ difficulty,”  as  fights  are  called,  nor  any  fun.  There 
was  no  piano,  so  reading  and  cards  prevailed  among  the 
ladies.  There  was,  to  be  sure,  one  sudden  Mississippi  flirta- 
tion, however.  A fine  girl,  a tall  governess  going  to  .Natchez, 
took  a violent  fancy  to  a young  fellow  with  lank,  long  hair, 
demure,  and  soft  spoken.  Eor  a whole  week  he  never  ven- 
tured near  the  fair,  and  sat  far  down  the  table  among  the 
hopeless  bachelors,  when  all  at  once,  by  love’s  enchantment, 
we  saw  him  seated  at  the  head  of  the  table  next  his  inamo- 
rata ! He  was  studious,  and  had  lent  her  a book  at  some 
propitious  moment.  And  now  they  were  never  a moment 
asunder ; far  in  the  night,  by  moonlight,  as  we  ran  into  more 
pleasant  weather  south,  they  walked  alone  along  the  outer 
balconies,  (which  are  carried  round  these  boats,)  in  the  most 
loving  propinquity.  The  women  whispered — the  men  winked 
— it  was  a match.  Ho,  she  left  us,  and  the  gentleman  did 
not  follow.  But  these  sort  of  flirtations  are  sudden,  and  very 


140 


THE  POOE  ANIMALS  KEVIVE. 


violent  in  the  States ; they  may  end  in  a day  ; nobody  thinks  j 
anything  of  it. 

The  poor  turkeys  and  poultry  began  to  enjoy  the  sun  a 
little  ; altogether  about  eighty  died  on  the  passage  the  first 
few  days,  from  the  wet  and  cold ; their  later  sufferings  came 
from  the  sun  and  thirst.  I now  and  then  helped  the  two 
men,  their  owners,  to  give  them  water,  but  there  was  no 
trough  anywhere,  and  some  of  the  poor  things  never  got  any.  !; 

The  horses,  too,  got  more  used  to  the  fire  of  the  engine,  I 
the  bells,  the  whistles,  and  the  screeching  brutality  of  their  ■■ 
keepers.  They  plunged  less,  and  submitted  to  their  fate,  f| 
tied  up  in  the  cold  wind ; for  the  deck  is  open  all  round  at  j 
the  sides.  Grand  Gulf  is  remarkable  as  being  an  ugly  cus-  , 1 
tomer  in  snags,  and  whirlpools,  and  eddies. 

But  I do  not  mention  all  the  towns,  rivers,  bluffs,  and 
wooding  stations  along  the  river — alternately  in  Arkansas,  j 
Tennessee,  Mississippi,  and  Louisiana ; it  would  be  an  un- 
meaning list  of  names — some  of  them  curious  and  Indian, 
but  the  greater  part  incongruous  or  absurd.  Palmyras,  i 
Carthages,  and  Brownsvilles,  Simpsonvilles.  Never  surely 
was  this  Trench  word  ville  so  hackneyed  and  vidgarised — all 
over  America;  so  that  “cut-offs,”  and  Bayou  Atacafalaya, 
Big  Black  Creek,  Horse-shoe  Bend,  Devil’s  Bake-oven,  &c., 
are  quite  a relief. 

As  the  sun  was  getting  warm,  and  ice  had  nearly  disap- 
peared on  our  approach  to  New  Orleans,  I began  to  look  out 
tor  alligators,  and  at  Bayou  Sara  (Seree)  we  saw  a small  one 
sunning  himself  near  some  large  trunks  of  trees  close  to  the 
town,  and  where  we  put  in  with  the  boat.  It  was  but  an 
infant,  and  slipped  quietly  into  the  river  out  of  harm’s  way  ; 

“ very  likely  its  mother  didn’t  know  it  was  out !”  the  skipper 
suggested. 

We  pass  Natchez,  built  on  nice  hills  or  bluffs,  for  every 
little  elevation  of  the  shore  on  either  side  is  welcome  in  this 
thousand-mile  dead  forest  level.  Most  of  these  towns  and 
settlements  were  originally  French : and  there  is  a story  here 
of  horrid  treachery  and  barbarity  to  the  poor  Indians  in  the 
eighteenth  century.  But,  indeed,  what  is  the  whole  history 
of  us  Christians,  Spaniards,  French,  and  English  among 
these  children  of  the  New  World,  but  a succession  of  robbery, 
treachery,  and  butchery!  The  catalogue  is  too  black  to 
venture  on,  filling  one  with  disgust  and  anger,  all  in  the  name 
of  God  and  Heaven ! 

We  see  a mail  steamer  going  up  the  Bed  Biver,  where  we 
take  an  immense  circle,  not  venturing  through  the  “ cut-off.” 
An  old  steamer  at  the  bank  did  duty  as  a sort  of  store  and 
depot  at  its  mouth  ; below  this  the  sugar-cane  thrives  best. 
This  is  an  immense  river,  rising  in  New  Mexico,  1500,  or 


THE  BED  RIVER — BATON-ROUGE. 


141 


2000  miles  off,  running  tlirougli  dense  tangled  forests  and 
sandy  wildernesses ; it  is  navigable  for  700  miles,  to  where  it 
runs'under  natural  rafts  of  fallen  trees,  so  deep  and  compact 
that  it  is  crossed  as  on  a bridge,  on  horseback,  for  miles,  the 
overgrown  mould,  moss  and  shrubs  concealing  the  river 
beneath ; this  is  above  Nachitoches.  Of  late  years  the  ex- 
cellence and  fertility  of  hills  and  valleys  on  this  wonderful 
river  begins  to  attract  settlers,  and  several  large  towns  have 
sprung  up,  far  more  remote  and  “ out  of  the  world”  than 
here  in  savage  Mississippi  itself.  It  is  not  the  novelty  alone 
— all  nature  here  astonishes  in  the  gigantic  span  of  her  silent 
workings. 

"We  rush  through  the  Raoourci,  twice  “ cut  off,”  and  in 
half  a mile  save  a twenty  mile  bend  (bayou) ; but  bayou 
means  any  winding  side  river,  or  inlet,  as  well  as  these  multi- 

Elied  serpentine  vagaries  of  this  father  of  fresh  waters.  We 
ave  left  the  Mississippi  state,  at  Bayou  Sara,  and  are  now 
entirely  in  Louisiana,  and  soon  pass  Baton  Rouge,  the  capital. 
It  is  built  on  the  last  rising  ground  to  be  called  a hill,  even 
by  courtesy.  The  town  is  small,  and  looks  pretty  from 
the  river.  Here  the  U.  S.,  or  Uncle  Sam,  has  an  arsenal, 
barracks — a fine  building — and  400  soldiers,  a hospital,  a 
land-office,  a state  house,  penitentiary,  gaol,  a college,  and  all 
the  etceteras  of  the  capitals  of  each  State,  but  it  is  known 
only  to  a few  officials ; all  the  world  live  at  New  Orleans. 

I might  have  marked  the  phases  of  this  unique  river  more 
vividly.  At  one  place  where  we  put  in  for  wood  in  ’Kansas, 
at  New  Carthage,  the  proprietor  lived  on  the  spot  in  the 
woods,  in  not  a bad  frame-house.  This  was  a stern  original, 
the  beau  ideal  of  the  “ true  grit,"  half  horse,  half  alligator,  as 
he  sat  and  whittled  on  the  top  of  his  piles  of  wood.  His 
slaves  were  employed  about ; and  one  old  woman  was  driving 
a span  of  oxen  in  a cart  loaded  with  wood.  About  fifty  yards 
from  this  barn  I admired  a slip  of  his  territory ; undermined 
by  the  river,  eight  or  ten  acres  had  sunk  thirty  or  forty  feet ; 
noble  pines,  oaks,  hemlocks,  at  the  bottom  of  this  muddy 
crater,  still  kept  possession  of  the  soil,  but  all  thrown  into 
various  angles,  and  some  prostrate,  while  yawning  mud- 
chasms,  through  which  the  river  was  stealing,  woimd.  about 
their  lower  uptorn  roots.  This  scene  of  utter  desolation  and 
engulfed  wilderness  he  called  Old  Carthage  ! Shade  of  Scipio ! 
here  was  a modern  Marius  sitting  on  his  logs,  but  only  rumi- 
nating tobacco  and  pouching  his  dollars.  Nothing  pays  so 
well  as  wooding  up  and  down  this  river.  Our  boat  expends 
a thousand  dollars  each  trip  for  wood  alone.  This  severe 
’Kansas  colt  was  no  doubt  happy,  the  jingle  of  dollars  sweet 
music.  He  defied  fever  and  mosquitoes ; and  as  for  the 
sinking  of  Old  Carthage  at  his  door,  or  had  it  sunk  house 


142 


THE  'SPANISH  MOSS. 


ancl  all,  it  would  not  have  moved  his  grim  resolve  to  go  on 
cording  his  wood.  Hereabouts  we  first  begin  to  observe  the 
curious  Spanish  moss,  which  drapes  and  at  length  kills  the 
forest  trees.  It  is  very  singular  ; wafted  by  the  air  this ' 
parasite  attaches  itself  to  the  branches,  grows  in  long  grace- ; t 
ful  festoons,  and  drapes  the  woods  ; but  I think  funereally  ; i. 
I do  not  like  it ; it  looks  melancholy  ; vampire-like  it  kills  its 
victims.  It  is  of  an  olive  greenish  grey  colour,  and  is  con- 
verted, after  being  kiln-dried  and  broken  like  flax,  into  i 
mattresses ; its  inner  texture  being  black,  very  much  resembles 
horsehair. 

In  our  winding  course  we  have  got  to  the  west  of  Hew  Or- 
leans,  so  that  the  lower  part  of  this  river  runs  eastward  from 
about  Plaquemine,  and  so  onto  the  Balize,  in  an  E.S.E.  direc-  I 
tion,  as  if  it  came  from  Mexico  ; but  such  are  the  immense  s 
distances,  that  even  this  last  change  in  its  general  direction  • 
comprises  200  or  300  miles.  I have  said  nothing  of  the  ‘ 
planters,  their  houses  and  sugar-cane  mills,  steam-engines,  and 
negro-quarters,  generally  built  in  a street  of  small  frame-houses  >, 
behind  the  great  house  and  garden.  These  sugar  plantations  ' 
begin  below  Bed  Biver,  till  beyond  Baton  Bouge  they  fringe 
both  shores  in  Louisiana,  to  Hew  Orleans ; the  wall  of 
forest  forming  an  unbroken  line  behind  them,  of  from  one  to 
two  miles  width  of  fields  from  the  river  side.  The  great 
cotton  plantations  are  more  in  the  interior,  and  out  of  sight,  i 1 
and  spread  over  the  south  through  all  the  States. 

We  saw  nothing  of  the  sugar-cane,  which,  planted  in  the 
spring,  is  cut  in  the  autumn,  and  the  fields  cleared;  and  as  the 
Indian  corn  grows  and  ripens  at  the  same  time,  the  fields  are 
everywhere  quite  bare ; indeed,  shortly  after  our  arrival,  they 
were  covered  with  snow,  an  unheard-of  thing  so  far  south ; 
but  this  year  is  very  severe,  kills. many  indigenous  flowers  and 
shrubs,  and  nearly  all  their  orange-trees,  which  are  invariably 
the  chief  ornament  of  their  gardens.  But  no  more  of  the 
river. 

On  the  tenth  day,  of  a balmy  afternoon,  we  pass  round  the 
crescent-bend  in  front  of  the  great  city  of  Hew  Orleans,  and 
after  landing  our  seventy  horses  at  the  barracks  below  the  > 
town,  we  return,  and  take  up  our  berth  among  the  steam- 
boats : their  wharves,  at  what  is  called  the  levee,  taking  up  one- 
tliird  (in  the  centre)  of  the  river  face,  which,  from  the  upper  [ 
to  the  lower  tier  of  shipping,  extends  about  five  miles.  These 
levees  are  no  levees  at  all,  as  I expected ; they  are  not  a bit 
above  the  level  of  the  streets,  being  merely  broad,  well-planked  | 
wharves,  sloping  to  the  river,  supported  by  strong  piles,  and 
about  ten  feet,  at  the  highest  part,  above  the  current,  which 
is  now  very  low.  I am  quite  disappointed  with  the  first  view 
of  this  much  bepraised  city  of  the  south.  I expected  to  find  it 


NEW  OBLEANS, 


143 


more  French,  antiquated,  picturesque  in  solid  high-peaked 
roofed  houses,  and  a French  or  Spanish  air,  hut  all  is  now  mo- 
notonous American.  I can  only  except  the  old  cathedral  in 
the  middle  of  the  town,  still  the  French  quarter ; hut  now  the 
great  mass  of  the  place,  houses,  streets,  warehouses,  cotton- 
presses,  stores,  language,  dress,  manners;  all  is  wholly 
American,  down  to  hackney-coaches,  cotton-drays,  and  niggers. 

Ho  sooner  do  we  touch  one  of  the  outer  steamers  (for  there 
is  no  room  to  come  quite  inside  the  double,  often  triple,  rows, 
forming  bridges  across  each  other’s  decks),  than  a troop  of 
hacks  gallop  down  the  planks,  draw  up  in  files,  and  their 
drivers,  chiefly  Paddies,  jump  on  board,  whip  in  hand,  and  seize 
on  us. 

“ You’ll  be  going  to  the  Verandah  Hotel,  sir  F It’s  myself 
’ll  take  you  there  in  no  time.” 

“ Ay,  my  man,  anywhere.” 

We  all  shake  hands,  and  bid  a kindly  good-by  to  each  other, 
for  ten  days  begets  friendly  nods  and  sociability,  and  more 
than  one  sincere  and  hearty  invitation  to  plantations  500 
'miles  off. 

The  great  St.  Charles’  Hotel,  corner  of  St.  Charles-street, 
had  just  been  burnt  down  ; so  the  Verandah,  close  to  it,  be- 
came the  hotel,  though  there  are  hundreds  in  the  town  ; and 
thither  I betook  myself,  went  through  the  usual  registration, 
with  the  usual  warning  on  the  bedroom-door,  besides  the 
pleasure  of  being  urbanely  congratulated  on  my  good  luck  in 
getting  one  of  the  two  beds  unoccupied.  This  is  an  immense 
hotel : hundreds  of  beds,  hundreds  at  table,  hundreds  at  the 
bar.  At  meals  we  sit  in  an  immensely  fine  domed  hall,  in 
darkness  visible,  on  exactly  the  same  plan  as  the  Astor,  and  all 
others  ; but  it  is  better,  and  the  charge,  including  everything, 
three  dollars  a- day. 

The  first  thing  which  strikes  one  at  Hew  Orleans  is  the 
want  of  care  and  neatness  in  everything  in-doors  and  out. 
The  streets  are  miserably  paved ; the  only  place  to  walk  with 
any  pleasure  is  on  the  planked  levee  at  the  water-side,  among 
the  cotton  bales,  casks,  boxes,  carts,  hacks,  and  crowds. 

I ranged  on  it  along  the  whole  extent  of  the  river  face,  and 
could  not  but  admire  the  numbers  of  fine  ships  in  tiers  above 
and  below,  where  they  face  the  succession  of  cotton-presses  and 
yards,  each  with  its  curious  steam-engine  press,  operating  on 
thousands  of  bales,  reducing  them  at  a single  squeeze  (placed 
between  two  moving  platforms)  to  half  their  plantation  size, 
and  ready  for  shipping. 

Everything  here  is  on  a magnificent  scale,  as  if  this  pestilent 
swamp  and  threatening  stream  disdained  economies  of  space, 
thought,  or  action.  Indeed,  all  that  meets  the  eye  whispers, 
“ Be  bold,  be  resolute ; gain  your  ends  at  any  risk ; short  is 


144  SUNDAY  MARKET — INDIANS. 

your  time— be  off — or  clie.”  The  most  prudent  and  richest 
merchants  keep  this  in  view.  Why  talk  of  your  house,  your 
means,  your  family,  your  friends,  when  everything  shifts  in  a 
year  or  two,  and  swarms  of  new  faces  pour  in  and  out ; where 
the  police  and  the  law  stand  for  very  little  ; where  there  is  no 
rule,  no  order — the  very  authorities  set  at  defiance  by  their 
own  motley  citizen  mob,  or  the  mob  of  desperadoes  from  every 
state  in  the  Union ! True,  all  this  does  not  appear  at  first 
sight,  and  its  worst  features  only  break  out  at  intervals.  But 
all  police  regulation,  order,  cleanliness,  and  obvious  common- 
sense  arrangements,  are  quite  neglected  by  the  mayor  and 
municipality — as  in  most  of  their  cities — or  they  dare  not  en- 
force them.  Here  they  are  in  a dead  lock,  some  parts  of  the 
city  being  beyond  the  centre  (or  one  end)  jurisdiction ! 

Their  daily  papers  are  loud  against  this  mischievous  and 
absurd  state  of  tilings.  Meantime,  as  every  soul  is  busy,  few 
or  none  hungry,  though  dirty  and  ragged  enough,  and  all  the 
world,  like  ourselves,  used  to  a loose  self-government,  things 
go  on  somehow,  the  town  increases,  and  its  population  swelled 
by  Irish  emigrants,  who  flock  more  and  more  each  year  to  the ' 
south. 

One  hardly  ever  hears  French  spoken,  except  by  the  oldest 
negro  slaves,  and  some  few  French  new  from  France ; for  the 
natives  (they  call  themselves  creoles)  though  they  speak  both 
languages,  seldom  have  occasion  to  speak  French,  except  to 
new  comers,  or,  perhaps  (if  French),  at  home,  in  their  families. 

Fine  buildings  abound.  The  Custom-house,  in  granite,  now 
rising  on  the  river  side,  near  the  centre,  Canal-street,  will  be 
a noble  edifice.  The  whole  town  is  on  piles ; and  there  are 
no  cellars,  nothing  underground.  The  least  hole  dug,  up 
rushes  the  water ! In  such  a swamp,  however  the  surface 
may  be  dry,  paved,  or  planked,  one  wonders  they  venture  to 
build  anything  solid  or  heavy,  and  yet  the  whole  town  is  of 
brick,  with  many  houses  massive  and  of  stone  ; the  suburbs 
only  in  frame,  fires  are  so  frequent,  so  very  often  are  houses 
burned  on  purpose  ! 

The  chief  market-day  is  on  Sunday,  after  morning  mass  at 
the  cathedral  close  by  (about  the  centre  of  the  city,  opening 
out  on  a square  to  the  river).  The  market  is  a fine,  ample 
building,  open  on  all  sides.  Here  all  the  work-a-day  world 
may  be  seen — chiefly  very  ugly  female  negroes — squatting  in 
rows  along  the  sunny  strand,  with  little  piccayune  heaps  of 
pot-herbs,  vegetables,  grapes,  oranges,  bananas,  pepper,  sugar 
and  sugar-cane,  pineapples,  yams,  sweet  potatoes.  This  tro- 
pical fashion  puts  one  in  mind  of  the  West  Indies.  I looked 
about  for  Indians,  but  only  saw  two  or  three  half-starved 
creatures  standing,  cold,  mute — statues  in  rags ; yet  did  I 
look  with  interest  on  their  wan  faces— this  was  their  land. 


LIFE  IN  NEW  ORLEANS. 


145 


But  even  the  degraded  remnants  about  the  southern  towns 
contrast  favourably  with  the  chattering  monkey-antics  of  the 
restless  negroes,  who,  forsooth,  affect  to  despise  them. 

I one  day  crossed  the  boiling,  rushing  stream  to  the  oppo- 
site shore,  a kind  of  suburb  called  Algiers,  where  everything 
bears  the  marks  of  decay ; muddy  roads,  broken  wharves, 
nothing  neat  or  eared  for ; some  few  warehouses  at  the  river 
side,  where  a few  ships,  not  finding  room  at  the  city  side, 
unload  or  load  occasionally,  Steam  ferry-boats  cross  every 
half-hour  from  two  or  three  of  the  city  ferries,  the  fare  a dime 
both  ways.  A Frenchman  going  over  was  loud  against  the 
knavery  of  his  tenants,  and  everybody.  He  had  made  money 
in  eighteen  years  ; but  to  keep  it,  or  get  his  rents,  or  get  any 
one  house  repaired  or  painted,  was  hard  work.  He  called  on 
an  independent  operative  at  a store  about  some  job,  ordered 
for  the  twentieth  time — “ Mon  Dieu  !”  said  he,  “ quel  pays  !” 

This  side  is  fast  washing  away.  A fine  house  in  the  best 
style — all  their  country-houses  are  large,  square,  with  high 
roofs  aud  dormant  windows  (mansards),  with  broad  verandahs 
carried  quite  round  them,  or  at  least  on  two  sides — this  house 
and  its  ruined  garden,  all  now  in  ruins,  had  been  long  aban- 
doned by  its  owner  to  the  devouring  river.  It  was  close  to 
the  floating  ferry-office  and  platform.  A few  squalid  squatters, 
negroes  and  Irish,  had  taken  possession,  ready  to  move  when 
the  premises  began  to  move. 

The  city  is  full  of  exchanges,  large  saloons  with  bars.  At 
some  of  them,  the  crowds  who  hang  about  them  day  and  night 
have  “ cold  cuts”  and  lunch  gratis.  Here  most  of  the  turns-up 
and  scenes  of  violence  occur ; not  that  I saw  one  in  the  two 
weeks  I remained.  There  were,  however,  two  night  assassi- 
nations, and  people  out  at  night  always  went  armed  ; but  these 
grog-shops  below  the  cathedral,  and  in  Lafayette  suburb 
above,  are  the  worst. 

They  may  be  said  to  have  no  outlet  by  land  except  the 
Shell-road,  of  five  or  six  miles,  straight  as  an  arrow  across  the 
fiat  or  swamp  of  Palmettos  (ditched,  and  near  the  town  lazily 
cultivated)  to  Lake  Ponchartrain  to  the  north-east.  This,  and 
a canal  opening  from  basins  in  the  eastern  suburbs,  and  running 
south  of  the  lake,  and  a railroad  parallel,  to  Lakeport  on  the 
lake,  seem  the  only  lines  at  all  frequented.  The  Shell-road  is 
exquisite  in  its  smoothness,  formed  of  the  gnothodon  shell  (a 
giant  cockle),  an  extinct  species,  found  in  masses  about  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico  swamps. 

This  fine  bit  of  road  is  the  fashionable  drive  for  their  fast 
men  and  fast  horses,  in  their  spider-spolce-wheeled  light 
wagons,  common  all  over  the  Union.  Theydrive  out,  smoke 
and  drink  at  hotels  on  the  lake,  then  they  drive  back,  smoke 
and  chink;  sometimes  racing  all  the  way. 


GOLDEN  ORIGINAL. 


146 

Walking  out  Canal-street,  the  -widest,  if  not  tlie  best,  in  ud 
New  Orleans  (the  canal  filled  up  and  planted  with  trees),  just  joti 
at  the  suburbs,  a short  mile  from  the  river,  the  lazy  ruffian*  fc[ 
cotton-draymen  are  allowed  to  leave  the  dead  carcases  of  theii  jty 
poor  horses  and  mules  when  worn  out  or  killed.  A horse  and  (If 
mule  I saw  by  the  road  side  infecting  all  the  air ; and  so  on  tit 
in  all  the  swamp  Palmetto  ends  of  the  suburbs.  This,  too,  in  ki 
a town  where  the  most  exact  care  should  be  taken  to  prevent  (tt 
infections,  where,  from  the  inevitable  summer  miasma,  the  I 
yellow  fever  too  often  decimates  the  inhabitants ; but  nobody  *1 
cares.  Itf 

What  with  returned  or  going  Californians,  rich  planters'  e 
once  in  ten  or  twenty  years  turning  up  from  their  far-ofi  m 
estates  on  the  Bed  ltiver,  or  the  centres  of  these  wild  states,  ^ 
or  suddenly-enriched  artisans  and  tradesmen,  &c.,  New  Orleans1  | 
is  full  of  curious  originals— some  violent,  some  funny  and  j| 
harmless  enough.  About  this  hotel,  where  Common  and 
Charles-street  corner  is  crowded  day  and  night,  one  of  these 
odd  creatures  displays  himself.  He  has  made  dollars,  and  B; 
now  idles  about  from  dram-shop  to  dram-shop  (exchanges)  inij| 
utter  vacancy,  dressed  in  superfine  blue  broadcloth,  richly  em-I|t 
broidered  in  oak-leaves  (like  a prime  minister’s),  his  buttons  jn 
gold  eagles  and  half-eagles,  with  an  immense  gold  eagle  and  1 
cockade  in  a broad-brimmed  beaver  white  hat,  his  fingers  in  \ 
rings  of  price,  and  round  his  neck  half  a dozen  massive  gold  , 
chains ; but  all  this  is  not  rich  enough — he  stands  in  silver  > 
shoes  ! All  the  world  know  this  crazy  creature,  and  he  chats,  s 
and  drinks,  and  treats,  and  is  treated,  for  ever.  He  is  very  t; 
political,  and  beats  six  acres  of  rattlesnakes  and  copper-heads  \ 
in  biting  republicanism.  ■ l( 

The  fierce  cold  returns,  the  snow  lies  six  inches  on  the  | 
ground,  the  orange-trees  are  killed,  iron  pipes  split,  and  the  |( 
whole  town  pelting  each  other  with  rare  snow-balls ; but  such  \ 
a winter  is  not  in  the  oldest  memory. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

NEW  ORLEANS— MOBILE— PENSACOLA  AND  THE  ELOKIDAS.  |j 

COTTON  BARQUE  TO  CATE  COD  ALONG  THE  GULF  STREAM. 

I am  hurried  on  to  Mobile,  and  must  steal  a word  or  two 
more  of  New  Orleans  before  I leave  it,  not  to  describe,  but 
correct  my  own  ignorance  of  simple  facts.  Thus,  I find  there 
is  a railroad  to  Carroltown,  seven  miles  off,  higher  up  the 
river — a favourite  retreat  for  the  richer  merchants ; and  that 
“ Algiers,”  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  is  considered  the 
workshop  of  the  city,  particularly  for  carpenters,  blacksmiths, 


THE  HELD  OT  BATTLE. 


147 


- and  shipwrights;  it  lias  various  manufactories,  with  steam 
motive  power ; several  ship-building  yards,  and  a large  sailors’ 

- hospital,  though  it  is  washing  away ; and  so  may  be  this  great 
city  some  of  these  days.  Very  lately  they  were  inundated  by 

- the  river’s  breaking  in  above  them  (by  a short  cut)  over  the 

- trifling  ditch-like  elevations  along  the  banks,  the  whole  town 

- being  four  feet  below  the  higher  level  of  this  turbulent 
-[stream. 

But  nobody  cares  for  possibilities  or  probabilities ; it  will 
or  it  may  go  on  as  it  has  for  hundreds  of  years,  so  slow  are 
the  disappearances  or  creations  of  our  earth,  which,  swampy 
; as  it  is  here,  is  as  valuable  in  hard  dollars  for  so  many,  feet 
■J  and  inches  “ frontage,”  as  it  is  in  London;  indeed,  house- 
' rent  is  dearer  here,  as  is  every  necessary  and  every  luxury  of 
life.  But  the  Americans  everywhere  live  very  expensively, 
-‘.whether  they  can  afford  it  or  not. 

I did  not  go  to  what  is  called  the  “ battle  ground,”  six  miles 
down  the  river,  where  the  flower  of  our  brave  troops  were  so 
-1 1 rashly  led  to  slaughter — it  can  never  be  fairly  called  a battle. 

- The  Americans,  secure  behind  their  trenches  and  cotton  bales 
(of  all  possible  barriers  the  most  impenetrable  and  safe),  with 

; their  rifles  at  a rest,  fired  at  our  regiments  as  they  might 

- have  done  at  so  many  moving  targets.  We  had  two  thousand 
Skilled  and  wounded,  while  they  had  seven  killed  and  six 
1 mounded!  This  sad  affair  lasted  but  a single  hour,  on  the 
’ “ plains  of  Chalmette.”  Our  poor  fellows  might  with  infinitely 
: [more  chance  of  life  have  been  led  against  the  curtain  of  a 
T citadel  unbreached,  across  a wet  ditch.  From  behind  this 

- long  line  of  cotton  bales  three  or  four  thousand  unerring 
rifles  were  levelled  breast  high.  The  whole  thing  was  reduced 

J to  a certainty.  What  fatality  could  have  prompted  such  an 

- onset  seems  to  me  to  this  day  unaccountable  ; for  our  mistake 
-1  in  attacking  in  this  direction  at  all  must  have  been  known 

after  the  first  affair,  a week  previous,  when  our  advancing 
army  were  engaged  and  fired  on  by  the  armed  schooner  sta- 
tioned in  the  river  three  miles  below  this  fatal  spot ; and  from 
whence  the  Americans  retreated  back  to  these  fines.  Here 
both  armies  were  six  days  looking  at  each  other,  till  the  dis- 
astrous  Sunday  morning,  the  8th  of  January,  1814.  “ Slowly 

and  steadily  the  columns  advanced  toward  the  American  fine. 
Behind  their  parapets  all  was  silent  until  the  British  army 
. iiad  reached  a convenient  distance,  when  a deadly  fire  was 
; poured  in.”  This  is  the  American  account  of  it,  and  it  seems 
fair  enough;  all  these  flats  are  more  or  less  dry  and  firm 
1 according  to  the  seasons.  The  left  of  the  American  entrench  - 
7;  ment  was  secured  by  the  swamp  being  impracticable  ; it  could 
aot  be  turned,  and  the  river  defended  their  right.  Why  we 
chose  our  approach  by  Lake  Borgne  below,  instead  of  Lake 
L 2 


148 


THE  EIVEE — AND  COTTON  TEADE. 


Pontchartrain  behind,  and  so  much  nearer  the  city,  across  ; 
firmer  part  of  these  fiats  and  swamps,  is  not  said.  But  lim 
and  oblivion  throws  its  mantle  over  victories  and  defeats  alike 
fifty  years  levels  everything.  What  have  all  our  victories  ii 
the  Peninsula,  crowned  by  Waterloo,  done  for  us? 

This  Crescent  City  is  a hundred  miles  above  the  fou 
branches  of  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  which,  loaded  witl 
mud  and  wood,  the  wrecks  of  thousands  of  miles  of  forests 
carries  its  own  peculiar  delta  out  with  it  into  the  Gulf  o 
Mexico,  where  all  in  its  vicinity  is  shallow,  flat,  and  muddy 
They  have  always  numerous  tug  steamers  far  at  sea  in  tb 
gulf,  in  these  shallow,  discoloured  waters,  constantly  on  tin 
look  out,  with  their  pilots,  to  tow  the  shipping  up  the  rive: 
— a most  lucrative  business.  Indeed,  all  the  accessories  o 
trade  soon  grow  more  valuable  to  the  bodies  of  men  engagec 
in  it  than  the  trade  itself,  without  its  risks  and  anxieties 
Thus,  in  the  cotton  marts  up  the  Mississippi  and  at  Mobile 
swarms  of  cotton  brokers  usurp  the  market ; the  planters  ar< 
mere  babes  in  their  hands;  they  rifle  them  and  the  market 
the  cotton  is  forestalled  or  mortgaged  often  before  it  is  picked 
and  wasted  and  eaten  into  in  many  ways  before  it  is  ftnalb 
shipped  for  Liverpool  or  Europe.  At  Mobile  and  NewOrlean 
it  is  unmercifully  slashed  and  robbed  to  get  deep  into  the  ball' 
for  the  sample.  Then  come  the  host  of  small  pilferers  to  piclj 
up  on  the  wharves  and  about  the  cotton-presses  the  million 
of  handsful  blown  about  and  trodden  under  foot  everywhere 
plucking  slily  at  the  wounded  ragged  bales  to  help. 

A law  has  at  last  put  a stop  to  this  kind  of  gleaning ; bw 
still  the  poor  planter  finds  a fearful  falling  off  of  the  weigh 
as  it  left  his  press.  And  thus  the  wood-sellers  up  and  dowi 
these  immense  rivers  make  more  money  than  the  owners  o 
the  steamers  they  sell  it  to. 

This  kind  of  ramification  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of  al 
trade ; one  may  pursue  it  into  a huckster’s  shop,  or  tin 
luxurious  villa  of  the  exchange,  the  cotton  or  the  stock  broker 
it  is  the  Spanish  moss  which  drapes  the  live  oak,  the  pine 
and  the  magnolia. 

Now  and  then  a man  starts  up  and  eloquently  points  ou 
certain  evils  to  the  community; — just  nowit  is  Mr.  Jamei 
Eobb,  a rich  merchant,  who  at  Baton  Eouge  does  not  span 
his  Crescent  City  townsmen — pointing  ont  all  the  nuisances 
anomalies,  uses  and  abuses  of  the  city.  I have  said  there  i 
no  walk  so  pleasant  as  the  planked  ievee— but  there  are  si: 
public  squares  and  many  fine  streets  notwithstanding ; and  ni 
doubt  many  of  the  private  gardens  and  grounds,  of  the  suburb 
and  finer  houses,  with  their  orange  and  palmetto  shades 
are  very  pleasing  in  the  spring  and  early  summer  months 


SNOW-BAILING  BALL. 


149 


In  some  of  the  streets  of  the  old  town  near  the  cathedral  one 
:i  sees  here  and  there  houses  of  the  Spanish  and  French,  solid 
; and  loftj',  with  marble  portals,  iron  balconies,  deep  cornices, 
4 and  rich  earrings  ; but  they  must  be  looked  for ; lying  in  a 
quarter  remote  from  the  bustle  and  crowds  of  the  modern 
ri  haunts. 

j But,  mdeed,  the  greatest  stir  of  all  kinds  is  on  the  levee  at 
; the  river  side ; compared  with  its  river  face,  the  city  has  no 
: depth,  none  of  the  streets  inwards  being  much  more  than  half 
- a mile  in  length,  before  one  comes  to  the  open  flat  country, 
overrun  by  the  low,  fan-like  palmetto,  which  springs  up  in 
these  idly-cultivated  flats,  is  browsed  on  and  disfigured  by  the 
4 half-starved  stray  cattle. 

j At  the  back  of  the  city  in  this  direction,  to  the  north-east, 
| towards  Lake  Pontchartrain,  the  plain  extends  on  all  hands, 
;[  perhaps  three  miles,  framed  in  by  the  forests  in  the  back- 
ground, much  as  it  is  above  and  below,  intersected  by  frequent 
ditches. 

I-  The  coasting  trade  with  Mobile,  the  Floridas,  and  West 
Indies  by  their  schboners  and  sloops  is  very  active  and  con- 
siderable, coming  in  by  the  canal  from  Lake  Borgne  (an  exten- 
sive inlet  east  of  Lake  Pontchartrain). 

But  it  is  time  to  start  for  Mobile,  though  I wns  almost 
tempted  to  go  to  the  Havana  by  one  of  the  steamers  or  screw 
clippers,  which  go  down  the  river  in  quick  succession  to  Cuba, 
and  all  the  West  India  islands,  taking  the  round,  too,  of  the 
[ gulfs  westward,  many  of  them  to  the  Texas,  Yera  Cruz,  and 
| Chagres ; but  at  this  moment  there  is  a feeling  of  suspicion 
I and  dislike  at  Havana  against  the  Americans,  or  anything 
Anglo-American,  so  I called  in  the  assistance  of  a broth  of  a 
1 boy  driving  a cab — not  long  sure  from  the  first  gem  of  the 
ocean — to  convey  me  to  the  railway  depot.  The  whole  country 
had,  for  nearly  a week,  been  covered  six  inches  deep  in  snow, 
and  I had  assisted  at  a dance  at  a first-rate  wholesale  boarding- 
house, where,  in  the  drawing-room,  the  gents  smoked,  and  the 
young  ladies  between  the  dances  running  out  on  the  balcony 
playfully  pelted  their  partners  with  snow-balls,  in  spite  of  the 
serious  displeasure  of  their  orchestra,  complete  in  the  person 
of  Massa  Quambo,  a sable  fiddler  in  high  fashion,  who  ex- 
pected three  dollars  for  his  job : a conscientious  man,  bent 
on  giving  good  measure,  but  much  vexed  at  the  snow-ball 
pause,  fiddling  out  of  time — to  no  tune  in  particular — with 
an  ' 1 J ' ' >t  to  be  trifled  with. 


suddenly  changed,  with  the 


wind,  to  intense  freezing  again.  I think  I have  reason  to  say 
the  town  is  execrably  pavecl ; never  have  I been  so  jolted  in 
a cab,  or  at  so  dear  a rate.  My  Paddy — good  luck  to  him. 


150 


MISE1UES  OF  THE  HAIL  AND  LAKE. 


sure  he  wouldn’t  he  picking  up  fares  too  fast — insisted  on  a 1 
dollar ; distance  about  a mile,  on  the  French  side  of  the  city,  It 
towards  the  canal  basins. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  this  train  was  meant  to  »' 
meet  the  Mobile  mail  steamer  at  Lakeport,  at  its  terminus  on  s: 
Lake  Pontehartrain.  Away  we  went  across  the  flats,  six  fi 
miles  ; the  last  half  of  it  through  the  primitive  swamp,  half 
under  water,  and  the  wild  woods,  which  encircle  all  these  1 
lakes  and  bayous.  t 

Lakeport,  where  we  arrived  at  sunset,  is  a small  hamlet  of  ■ 
frame  houses,  built  on  piles,  on  and  near  a long  wooden  jetty, 
carried  out  into  the  Lake  Pontehartrain,  on  which  the  rail 
runs  to  its  terminus  wharf,  where  the  steamers  generally  lay 
alongside  ; but  the  waters  are  very  low  just  now,  and  by  the 
time  we  got  out  of  the  cars  it  blew  a violent  freezing  gale  of 
wind  from  the  north,  and  we  could  see  the  steamer  at  anchor, 
as  near  as  she  could  safely  lay  to  the  shallow  shore,  but  hope- 
lessly out  of  reach,  and  no  boats  or  any  sort  of  conveyance 
to  put  the  passengers  on  board,  if  the  flercc  waves,  lashed 
against  the  jetty,  would  have  allowed  it — doubtful!  Mean- 
time we  are  all  huddled  out  of  the  cutting  wind  in  the  barn- 
like  depot,  or  store,  among  the  casks,  bales,  and  boxes,  and 
left  to  commune  with  each  other ; not  a creature  to  say — 
what  next?  The  cars  having  returned  to  New  Orleans,  con- 
ductor and  all,  not  in  the  slightest  degree  moved  or  concerned 
at  our  pleasant  predicament. 

AVe  were  an  odd,  motley  group,  to  be  sure,  much  resembling 
shipwrecked  mariners  on  a frozen  inhospitable  coast,  and 
about  as  comfortable.  Our  being  only  six  or  seven  miles 
from  New  Orleans  itself  did  not  at  all  mend  the  matter!  | 
There  was,  indeed,  nothing  pathetic,  but  an  immense  deal  of  I 
swearing  (at  all  captains,  boats,  and  rails),  and  suffering  from 
the  intense  cold ; the  margin  of  the  lake,  though  salt  water, 
frozen  in  ridges  as  it  lashed  the  shore,  and  all  of  us  exposed  to 
the  full  fury  of  the  gale,  being  on  the  lee  shore.  But  I have 
talked  so  much  of  cold  and  freezing  lately,  that  I will  now 
only  add,  that  after  waiting  in  vain  for  hours,  some  taking  , 
shelter  in  grog,  oyster  cabins,  and  empty  bath  houses  (for  in  . 
the  summer  heats  this  is  one  of  the  watering-places),  half  this 
living  cargo  were  fain  to  make  up  their  minds  to  remain  all 
night,  while  others  returned  to  New  Orleans  by  the  next  \ 
train,  more  dead  than  alive. 

I followed  a body  of  unfortunates  back  about  half  a mile,  to 
a hotel;  a large,  handsome  house,  luckily  not  shut  up,  but 
left  in  charge  of  two  or  three  Swiss  lads  to  rough  it  for  the 
winter,  and  make  what  they  could  at  the  bar.  At  a full  run 
we  all  rushed  in,  too  happy  to  find  anything  in  the  shape 


VARIOUS  DEGREES  OF  FREEZING.  151 

of  shelter  : the  night  pitch  dark,  and  nothing  heard  but  the 
howling  of  the  winds  and  lashing  of  the  waves. 

“ Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity,”  and  a hot  stove ; but  I 
. could  be  eloquent  on  the  intense  sufferings  of  that  wretched 
night,  and  the  next : to  be  frozen  to  death  on  the  hot  Gulf  of 
Florida  was  really  too  much  of  a good  thing ; amidst  the 
odoriferous  pines  and  magnolias,  and  milk-white  sands ; 
where  nobody  can  complain  of  anything  but  intolerable  heat 
and  mosquitos.  Now  this  hotel,  which  had  hardly  a window 
without  a broken  pane  of  glass,  however  pleasant  in  the  heats 
(for  a nice  verandah  ran  round  it,  and  it  stood  in  its  little 
. formal  garden,  with  brick  edges  to  its  borders,  and  shaded  by 
palms,  live  oaks,  and  pines),  was  not  at  allmeantfor  such  weather 
as  this.  The  wind  swept  through  it  in  every  direction.  In 
vain  the  Venetian  blinds  were  closed  ; even  the  bar-room  was 
at  zero,  except  in  a close  ring  round  the  stove ; and  I must 
needs  attempt  to  go  to  bed  at  the  end  of  a long  whistling  cor- 
ridor up-stairs.  All  my  Ohio  pains  from  freezings  were 
nothing  to  that  night ; not  but  that  the  exquisite  suffering, 
stretched  on  that  damp  mattress,  with  an  old  calico  quilt, 
were  in  some  sort  relieved  by  my  fears  every  now  and  then, 
in  the  fiercer  gusts  of  the  gale,  of  the  house  being  blown  away 
into  the  woods  altogether.  Oh,  how  I welcomed  the  first 
rays  of  the  rising  sun  next  morning ! How  delightful  to  sit  at 
breakfast  (for  they  made  us  a fire,  and  did  wonders  in  the 
way  of  feeding  us,  considering  this  was  a temporary  Siberia) 
— to  sit  at  breakfast,  I say,  quite  alive  and  merry,  though  the 
water  did  freeze  in  the  tumblers  as  we  sat ! Americans  are 
not  content  with  coffee,  which  is  always  excessively  watered, 
but  must  have  a glass  of  water  beside  them  to  drihk  besides, 
or  a tumbler  of  milk. 

And  now  we  learned,  that  after  we  had  escaped  from  the 
jetty,  the  steamer  started  for  Mobile  with  the  mail  (somehow 
got  on  board),  leaving  a batch  of  her  yellow  slave-boy  waiters 
on  shore,  who  were  warming  themselves,  and  not  looking  out. 
Their  comments  on  the  skipper's  cool  conduct  were  as  sharp 
as  the  winds:  “They  didn’t  care” — “He’d  better  mind,  or 
they'd  ship  on  board  some  other  boat.”  Another  steamer  was 
now  at  anchor,  and  though  the  gale  and  cold  were  very  little 
abated,  yet  we  were  in  hopes  of  getting  off,  by  means  of  an  old 
schooner,  which  could  come  up  to  the  jetty  and  take  us  off'. 
This  same  schooner  should  have  been  at  her  post  last  night ; 
but  with  the  usual  carelessness,  and  idleness,  and  unac- 
countableness of  everybody  in  everything,  she  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen. 

Even  now,  with  a second  day’s  accumulation  of  travellers, 
we  were  kept  shivering  for  hours  while  they  took  on  board 


152 


VILLAGE  OF  SHIPS — MOBILE. 


cotton  and  cargo — as  that,  paying  best  of  the  two,  wont  first. 
It  was  not  easy  to  get  on  board  from  the  jetty,  over  a plank, 
from  the  roughness  of  the  waves.  I pitied  some  of  the  poor 
ladies  as  they  sat  huddled  together  on  the  dirty  deck,  amidst 
hogsheads,  boxes,  bales,  and  freezing  water  wetting  their 
feet ; for  the  careless  animals  had  contrived  to  throw  over  an  i 
immense  chest,  filled  with  all  the  worldly  goods  of  some  poor 
immigrating  family.  Getting  it  out  of  the  lake,  it  broke  open, 
and  discharged  its  contents,  water  and  all,  about  the  deck. 
One  poor  sick  man,  in  charge  of  his  wife  or  sister,  was  carried 
on  board  in  a dying  state ; the  cold  alone  was  enough  to  kill 
him.  At  length,  towards  evening,  the  steamer,  a fine  boat 
(much  on  the  same  plan  as  those  at  Hew  York  and  Philadel- 
phia), weighed  anchor,  and  breasted  the  gale. 

This  passage  is  made  through  the  channel  between  Lakes 
Pontchartrain  and  Borgne,  and  along  a chain  of  islands  off  the 
shores  of  the  states  of  Mississippi  and  Alabama ; the  largest 
of  these,  Dauphin  Island,  is  of  great  length,  its  eastern  end 
forming  part  of  Mobile  Bay ; where  we  arrived  next  morn- 
ing, among  the  merchant  fleet  of  cotton  ships  at  anchor  within 
the  bar  at  Point  Mobile.  This  is  a curious  sight ; it  is  quite  a 
town  of  ships  ; a little  floating  community ; thirty  miles  from 
Mobile,  and  four  or  five  miles  from  the  nearest  shores  and 
pine  forests.  Here  they  remain  for  months  waiting  for  their 
cargoes,  which  are  brought  down  to  them  in  steamers.  They 
visit  each  other,  and  try  to  make  the  best  of  their  tedious  de- 
tention ; some  of  the  captains  living  at  Mobile,  or  coming 
backwards  and  forwards  occasionally. 

We  soon  ran  up  the  bay  to  the  city  on  the  western  side, 
inside  long,  low,  narrow  islands  of  rushes  and  trunks  of  trees, 
which  obstruct  and  mask  the  whole  water-side  face  of 
Mobile,  and  make  fast  to  the  fine-  plank  steam-boat  wharf,  be- 
side other  steamers,  ships,  barques,  schooners,  and  all  sorts  of 
vessels  of  light  draught — that  is,  ten  feet ; for  Mobile  Bay, 
all  its  upper  part,  is  shallow  for  twenty  miles,  and  its  naviga- 
tion difficult;  the  channels  narrow,  and  the  rise  of  tides 
along  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  making  little  difference  ebb  or 
flow.  / 

In  our  run  from  the  lake  of  pleasant  memory,  the  paddle- 
wheels  had  cased  the  sides  in  ice,  and  great  pendent  icicles 
ornamented  our  paddle-boxes.  As  to  our  interior  comforts  I 
cannot  speak  in  raptures  ; there  was  the  usual  impenetrable 
circle  of  ruminators  round  the  lower  cabin  stove,  with  all 
their  abominations,  as  I lay  freezing  in  a kind  of  open  berth 
(running  round  in  double  tiers,  with  curtains  under  the 
windows),  although  within  three  yards  of  the  said  animated 
fire-screen,  which  sat  up  the  whole  night,  and  could  not  be 
dispersed  to  clear  away  for  breakfast  by  the  unceremonious 


MOBILE — ITS  SANDS  AND  SWAMP.  153 

i darkies,  until  one  of  them,  with  a chuckle  and  a wink,  threw 
a handful  of  Cayenne  pepper  in  the  fire.  The  fumes  had  an 
instant  effect,  setting  us  all  coughing,  and  sending  our  imper- 
, turbable  squatters  flying  hi  all  directions  ; this  trick  astonished 
me ; I had  no  idea  it  could  produce  such  a choking  sensation. 

I This  was  the  only  novelty. 

Among  our  passengers  were  two  native  starring  tedious 
• tragedians  (three  theatres  are  generally  open  at  New  Orleans, 
f one  Trench),  and  a most  extraordinary  old  man — a far  west 
original — in  a chronic  state  of  tipsiness,  who  I had  observed 
acting  the  jack-pudding,  and  chattering  the  queerest  nonsense, 
in  one  of  the  wooden  oyster-houses  the  day  before.  Our  cap- 
tain, a burly,  surly  bear,  did  not  think  it  at  all  essential  to  be 
► civil  to  anybody,  except  the  ladies — particularly  the  lady- 
actress  who  sat  next  him ; he  gave  me  a taste  of  his  quality, 
but  I kept  the  Indian  taciturnity  as  “ my  guide,  philosopher, 
and  friend.” 

At  Mobile,  as  at  New  Orleans  and  all  their  cities,  hackney- 
carriages  drive  down  on  the  wharves,  and  a host  of  porters  ply 
i for  passengers  and  luggage  at  every  arrival.  A great 
shambling  man  of  colour  shouldered  my  trunk,  and  I was 
soon  housed  in  the  best  (Government)  street  of  this  singular 
town;  delighted  not  to  be  forced  to  take  refuge  either  at  a 
splendid  hotel,  or  a fashionable  boarding-house.  By-the-by, 
one  of  the  two  great  hotels  here  has  just  been  burnt  down ; a 
thing  that  happens  so  regularly  that  it  "is  considered  a matter 
of  course  ; and  they  are  hard  at  building  another  twice  as  big. ) 
Here,  as  at  New  Orleans,  every  comer  has  its  Exchange,  or 
great  room,  with  its  bar  and  immense  display  of  bottles,  ) 
where  a Swiss  organ  or  hurdy-gurdy  may  be  heard  constantly 
grinding,  and  a crowd  constantly  drinking. 

In  this  vast  delta  bordering  the  great  Gulf  of  Mexico  on 
the  north,  and  the  Gulf  Stream,  leaving  the  mud  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi and  its  swamps,  as  you  came  to  the  eastward  on  the 
same  low  level,  you  find  yourself  in  a country  of  pure  white 
sand — so  fine  that  it  serves  for  a sand-glass,  or  for  your 
letters  : this  is  only  at  intervals,  here  in  Alabama,  where  there 
are  a few  gentle  elevations,  not  quite  hills,  and  land  occa- 
sionally produces  fine  crops  of  anything,  besides  the  great 
staple  cotton.  But  across  this  noble  bay,  in  West  Florida, 
this  sand  is  the  earth ; the  shores  blind  you  with  them  pure 
whiteness,  and  so  of  the  whole  south  of  the  Floridas. 

These  dazzling  shores,  on  which  the  soft  blue  ocean  ripples 
— the  magnificent  pine  forests  to  the  water  's  edge,  mixed  with 
the  live  oak  and  giant  magnolia,  all  wild  and  aromatic  sweet, 
as  in  the  days  of  Columbus,  nay,  far  beyond  in  the  mists 
of  fabled  time — are  indescribably  romantic,  grand,  and  beau- 
tiful. But  as  yet  I am  only  in  the  sandy  streets  of  Mobile, 


154 


APPEABANCE  OF  MOBILE. 


which,  cut  up  into  ten  thousand  shifting,  harmless  ruts,  a lfti 
good  heavy  rain  puts  them  to  rights — the  only  mending  they  I® 
ever  get ; the  footpaths  of  the  best  streets,  and  those  next  the  1 111 
water,  are  of  brick,  but  out  of  repair.  Most  part  of  the  city 
is  scarcely  above  the  level  of  the  water,  and  all  the  lower 
streets  are  built  on  piles ; in  fact,  Mobile  is  built  on  a swamp, 
which  is  still  wild  and  intact,  half  a mile  off  on  each  side  of  it, 
where  the  Alabama  river  joins  the  head  of  this  vast  bay,  and 
where  various  channels  form  a series  of  islands,  scarcely 
above  the  water’s  edge,  often  inundated,  but  ordinarily  farmed 
out  for  pastures  or  gardens. 

Except  a few  streets  next  the  bay,  and  two  or  three  central 
ones  of  half  a mile  in  length,  the  whole  town  is  in  wood — 
wooden  mansions,  with  noble  columns  and  porticos,  many  of 
them.  Columns,  porticos,  rich  cornices,  handsome  verandahs 
meet  the  eye  everywhere ; it  is  a city  of  villas,  the  upper  part  i 
standing  in  their  own  small  gardens.  Trees  on  each  side 
shade  the  streets — the  Indian-tree,  the  plane,  and  labernum  ; , ; 
in  their  gardens,  the  palmetto  and  orange  ; but  their  orange- 
trees  are  killed  by  this  extraordinary  winter. 

Mobile  may  be  said  to  be  only  known  to  the  Americans.  ■! 
Few  of  our  travellers  visit  these  shores — lying  out  of  the  way  ; 
in  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  hundreds  of  miles  within  the  far- 
stretching  peninsula  of  Florida,  with  which  shore  and  its  ! 
islands  along  the  Gulf  Stream  (the  high-road  from  the  whole  j 
of  the  Antilles,  Mexico,  and  South  America)  we  are  much 
more  familiar.  Like  all  this  continent,  it  is  full  of  wonders 
and  excellences  ; its  forests  alone  on  the  seaboard  are  mines 
of  wealth,  and  of  late  years  Alabama  has  proved  very  fruitful 
in  cotton  ; almost  rivalling  New  Orleans. 

This  city  itself  has  sprung  into  existence  and  opulence  very 
recently.  Early  in  this  century  it  was  but  a small  poor 
village,  settled  by  the  French  and  Spaniards  ; and,  as  at  New 
Orleans,  something  of  their  customs  and  manners  may  be  ; 
traced  in  the  present  bustling  city.  Society  is  much  more  ' 
easy  and  pleasant,  I think,  here,  and  indeed  in  all  the  southern  | 
states,  than  in  the  northern  ones ; though  here,  as  every-  ,■ 
where,  a great  many  of  the  children  of  the  New  England  -I 
states  have  of  late  added  their  activity  and  enterprise  by  way 
of  leaven  to  the  more  southern  indolent  enjoyment  of  the 
present  hour.  When  Louisiana  and  the  Eloridas  were  ceded 
to  the  United  States  by  France  and  Spain,  it  did  an  immense 
good  on  all  hands.  It  suddenly  enriched  their  more  quiet, 
idle  colonists,  whose  possessions  rose  a hundred-fold  in  value 
in  these  towns,  and  opened  an  illimitable  field  to  the  energies  i 
of  the  northern  states.  The  consequences  become  more 
evident  every  day,  for  here,  in  this  pine  swamp,  town  lots  for 
building  are  sold  at  enormous  prices— the  value  increasing  ! 


STATE  OF  THE  HOADS. 


155 


eveiy  year.  This  is  the  great  touchstone  of  prosperity; 
except  in  the  few  quiet,  retired  descendants  of  the  French 
and  Spanish,  one  indeed  hears  nor  sees  anything  of  them  ; 
but  to  this  day  the  title-deeds  of  the  most  eligible  spots  in  and 
near  the  town  belong  to  them,  and  a good  deal  impede  the 
rapidity  of  building.  Disputed  titles,  however,  do  but  make 
money  for  the  lawyers,  and  cheek  the  general  spread  of  the 

Elaee  but  in  a trifling  degree.  A doubtful  title  is  shared  by 
alf  the  more  recent  citizens ; that  fact  alone  gives  them  a 
greater  security. 

Some  of  the  merchants  here  live  magnificently — their 
houses  are  really  mansions ; a great  many  have  handsome 
equipages.  Carriages  and  light  wagons  fly  through  the 
streets  as  if  on  air,  for  the  sand  is  so  soft,  no  noise  is  heard. 
The  sand  macadamises  all  the  streets  and  roads.  There  is, 
indeed,  a little  bad  paving  attempted  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
streets  towards  the  water — only  to  make  jolting  and  ruts  and 
mud  holes  more  obstrusive  and  annoying.  There  is  some- 
thing very  novel  and  pleasant  in  these  fine  sand  streets  and 
roads,  and  seeing  people  whisked  about  without  the  least 
noise.  The  horses  like  it,  though  it  does  make  their  work 
the  heavier ; but  their  light  wheels  can  be  dragged  through 
anything  at  a full  trot  of  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  the  hour. 
Out  of  town  the  drives  are,  however,  confined  to  the  environs. 
The  favourite  spot,  six  miles  off,  for  recreation,  is  Spring  Hill ; 
to  which  a shell  road,  smooth  and  hard  as  a billiarcl-table,  has 
been  made  through  the  woods.  This  is,  however,  a very 
expensive  turnpike. 

Another  and  rather  longer  drive  is  opened  through  the 
woods  down  the  bay,  beyond  the  lighthouse  ; which,  taking  a 
circle  among  the  villas  and  plantations  round  the  town,  may 
be  made  eight-  or  ten  miles.  Forest,  swamp,  and  the  bay, 
keep  their  primitive  possession  of  all  beyond. 

There  was  some  idea  of  making  a road — a railroad  to  Hew 
Orleans  ; but  across  such  swamps  and  forests  for  a hundred 
and  eighty  miles  damps  their  courage. 

Day-labourers  have  very  high  wages,  and  navvies  not  to  be 
had  as  with  us.  There  may,  indeed,  be  a growing  chance 
shortly  in  the  numbers  of  Irish  flocking  of  late  to  the  south ; 
Mobile  is  already  well  stocked  with  them,  their  women  being 
the  most  frequent  servants  of  all  work  to  be  met  with.  This 
puts  me  in  mind  of  an  Irish  lad  I gave  a dime  to  at  Lakeport. 
He  was  making  his  way  to  Mobile,  without  a cent  in  the 
world,  or  indeed  any  clear  idea  of  where  he  was  going  to,  or 
what  he  was  going  to  do  when  he  got  there ! He  was  dodging 
the  captain  and  clerk,  and  stealing  his  passage  on  board — 
often  done— and  we  encouraged  it.  The  party  get  on  board, 
keep  forward  among  the  deck  passengers,  never  inquire  for 


156 


MOBILE  CITY  FIXINGS. 


the  office,  say  nothing,  and  on  arriving  at  the  wharf,  wherever 
it  is,  try  to  step  off  the  guard  on  shore,  without  the  ceremony 
of  going  by  the  general  gangboard  and  presenting  their  ticket. 
Many  get  off,  if  lucky  ; but  if  seen  and  questioned  they  still 
get  off,  with  the  simple  addition  of  a kick — where  their  honour 
is  not  at  all  hurt.  The  addition  of  a string  of  forcible  and 
peculiar  oaths  and  vile  names,  in  running  accompaniment, 
passes  by  them  like  the  idle  wind ; there  is  no  giving  them  in 
charge,  nor  taking  before  magistrates : people  are  all  too  much 
pre-oceupied,  particularly  the  captain. 

Mobile  has  20,000  inhabitants,  all  thriving — some  making 
rapid  fortunes  ; cotton-agents,  lawyers,  and  doctors  take  the 
lead.  It  is  now  the  great  mart  for  all  the  country  on  the  Gulf 
east  of  the  Mississippi.  Great  steamers  crowd  its  port  with 
cotton  from  the  country  above  along  the  track  of  its  great 
river  (Alabama),  taking  back  goods  of  all  descriptions,  and 
hundreds  of  passengers,  to  the  capital,  Montgomery,  three  or 
four  hundred  miles  up  the  river : the  supply,  from  Europe 
and  the  West  Indies,  partly  coming  direct,  and  partly  from 
New  Orleans,  where  there  is  a daily  increasing  communica- 
tion. The  distance  by  water  (as  I came)  is  one  hundred  and 
eighty  miles,  and  the  fare,  chief  cabin,  five  dollars,  including 
supper  and  breakfast,  or  dinner. 

The  sun  here  has  a force  not  to  be  denied,  the  instant  these 
unwonted  north-west  blasts  cease;  so  that  early  in  February 
the  woods  and  fields  are  all  in  flower.  Among  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  the  hedges  and  gardens  in  the  environs,  is  the  Che- 
rokee rose.  In  early  spring  these  woods  and  wilds,  as  you 
drive  about,  have  many  charms  ; not  the  least,  the  odoriferous 
pine  and  sweet  myrtle.  The  “ Bush”  still  encircles  the  town 
on  three  sides  ; then  again,  one  is  cloyed  with  rich  sweets  in 
the  magnolias  and  Inclian-tree,  which  perfume  the  streets  ; 
but  I think  Lady  Emily  Stuart  Wortley  has  very  lately 
written  a delightful  book  telling  us  all  about  it ; and  who 
would  attempt  to  “ paint  the  lily  ?” 

I had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  a dear  friend  of  hers  here, 
Mrs.  Levert,  to  whom  she  has  addressed  some  very  charming, 
though  melancholy  lines,  on  friendship  and  the  grave ! and 
this  brings  to  mind  the  great  drawback  to  all  this  low,  damp, 
hot  country.  The  richer  inhabitants,  however,  as  at  New 
Orleans,  steam  away  to  the  north  every  summer,  as  soon  after 
June  as  they  can,  and  never  stop  till  they  reach  the  rocky 
shores  of  Boston,  or  the  springs  of  Saratoga ; returning  home 
in  September. 

Even  so  early  as  March  I found  the  growing  heat  very 
oppressive.  Mobile,  faithful  to  the  American  defect,  has  no 
mall,  no  walk,  no  public  gardens ; and  the  town  council,  or 
municipality,  allow  even  the  sweet  woods  at  the  ends  of  the 


BEMNANTS  OF  THE  INDIANS. 


157 

1 streets  to  be  poisoned  by  the  dead  carcases  of  all  sorts  of 
animals  : one  spot,  south  of  the  town,  is  famous  for  this  ter- 
rific effluvia ; and  a colony  of  wild  dogs — almost  wild — for 
here  the  stray  dogs  of  the  town  congregate,  feast,  and  fight 
over  the  dead  bodies  of  horses,  cows,  mules,  &c. ; and  thus 
are  ten  thousand  sweet  flowers  over  head  polluted,  and  bless- 
ings turned  to  a nuisance : but  even  the  streets  are  in  a sad 
; dirty  state  too  often ; the  press  complains,  everybody  com- 
plains, but  nobody  cares ; nobody  will  obey  anybody,  or  ob- 
' serve  any  sort  of  regulation,  no  matter  how  good  or  essential ; 

; though  the  mayor  every  morning  has  a bevy  at  his  “levee,” 

1 who  arc  heavily  fined  for  drunkenness  and  getting  into  a mus 
(that  is,  fighting). 

I saunter  about  in  the  shade,  sometimes  to  speculate  solus 
on  valuable  lots,  in  and  about  the  town,  for  building,  at  im- 
mense prices  and  doubtful  titles : at  others,  I stroll  to  the 
edge  of  the  woods,  out  Government-street,  about  a mile 
I beyond  the  ends  of  the  streets,  where  there  is  an  Indian 
_ camp,  or  rather  cluster  of  bark  wigwams,  wretched  beyond 
description,  where  a few  very  poor  Cherokees  and  Chickasaws 
yet  linger — among  the  last  of  their  race — still  hamiting  their 
own  country. 

The  women  are  pounding  Indian  corn  for  their  horn  any; 
kettles  are  smoking  about  in  the  sun,  slung  to  three  sticks  as 
a tripod ; shelter  or  privacy  there  is  none — they  hate  it ; no, 
for  ever  the  open  air,  at  the  root  of  a tree ; their  wigwams  do 
but  serve  to  keep  a few  rags,  pots,  and  arms  in — perhaps  the 
dew  off  on  cool  nights.  They  suffered  dreadfully  this  winter, 
but  in  a long  life  they  may  not  feel  such  another. 

Some  of  them,  the  younger  ones,  may  be  seen  every  day 
lounging  listless  about  the  town,  the  men  and  boys  with  bows 
and  arrows  to  shoot  at  a mark,  for  a dime  (a  fi’penny  piece), 
their  target  being  that  identical  tiny  bit  of  silver,  at  so  many 
yards,  and  rarely  missed  ! or  they  are  listening  to  the  port- 
able tinkling  piano  and  tamborine  of  the  Swiss  boys  and  girls, 
(who  find  their  way  to  the  ends  of  the  earth).  Their  women, 
decked  out  in  a mixed  finery,  like  the  men,  go  about  the  town 
selling  “ chumpa”  (chips  of  the  pine  to  fight  fires),  at  an  ex- 
travagant rate,  the  men  and  women  never  by  any  chance  toge- 
ther, and  both  with  most  serious  faces.  They  speak  to 
nobody,  rarely  smile,  or  seem  to  take  the  smallest  interest  in 
anything  going  on  about  them.  Here,  in  this  way,  have  they 
lived  for  years  unmoved,  unchanged,  in  the  smallest  degree, 
or  in  the  most  trifling  particular,  even  the  youth  who  have 
been  born  on  the  skirts  of  the  city.  Such  is  the  infallible 
force  of  custom  and  education,  in  short,  the  forming  of  innate 
ideas.  They  cannot  understand  us — never  can — never  will ; 
they  look  with  pity,  or  a mere  vacancy  of  thought,  feeling 


158 


SOCIETY — SOCIABILITY. 


nothing,  oil  the  finest  brick  mansions  here,  the  most  shining 
equipages,  the  most  charming  China  crape  shawls,  satin 
dresses,  and  Parisian  bonnets  and  feathers  (for  the  ladies  all 
dress  excessively).  Their  gowns  and  flaring  cotton  shawls, 
they  wear  from  sheer  necessity,  the  heads  alone  of  their  women 
(always  bare)  are  their  own  : perhaps  they’d  like  some  of  the 
gold  bracelets  they  may  see ; but  certainly  nothing  else  of 
European  fashion  or  fabric. 

Except  what  they  can  pick  up  about  the  town,  I have  no 
idea  how  they  can  live  at  all,  for  they  do  no  work  in  our  sense, 
and  produce  nothing,  not  even  a grain  of  Indian  corn,  almost 
their  sole  food.  A few  more  of  these  Indian  tribes  still  re- 
main in  the  Floridas,  but  they  have  been  ordered  off  beyond 
the  head-waters  of  the  Bed  Kiver.  There  is  a difficulty  in 
getting  them  to  leave  their  pine-woods  and  old  hunting- 
grounds  ; and  spite  of  all  the  previous  fighting,  it  is  thought 
they  will  once  more  attempt  resistance,  when  the  Indian 
military  agent  enforces  the  decrees  of  Congress. 

I have  been  to  one  or  two  1 t small  evening 


parties,  where  everything  was 


refined,  quiet, 


and  luxurious  as  in  our  own  best  circles.  A carpet  dance  was 
relieved  at  intervals  by  very  delightful  singing,  by  some  very 
pretty  girls.  From  the  little  I have  seen  of  it,  I should  say 
that  Mobile  possesses  a great  share  of  beauty  and  accomplish- 
ments in  its  women,  and  pleasing  manners  among  the  leading 
men.  But  refined  society  is  getting  more  and  more  the  same 
exact  thing  all  over  the  civilized  world. 

Here  in  this  bran-new  community  one  looks  for  novelty, 
out  of  doors,  at  least,  so  I stroll  to  where  they  are  making  a 
railroad  through  the  forest  swamps  to  Citronella,  thirty  miles 
up  the  river ; it  already  reaches  Mauri  11a,  twelve  miles,  and 
excursion  trains  are  very  busy  so'  far,  loaded  backwards  and 
forwards  with  the  idle  and  the  curious. 

This  railroad  is  the  beginning  of  an  immense  line  which  is 
determined  on  (and  is  surveying)  to  join  the  Ohio  somewhere 
about  its  junction  at  Cairo,  or  at  Louisville  in  Kentucky,  and 
so  complete  the  chain  on  to  Lake  Erie ; doubts  and  difficul- 
ties as  yet  keep  it  on  paper — the  distance  alone  1200  miles  ! 
A branch,  too,  will  go  to  Montgomery,  wThere,  by  the  way, 
there  is  a sort  of  track,  or  primitive  road,  through  the  swamps 
and  woods,  on  which  the  mail  stage  wearily  struggles  through 
sand,  and  mud,  and  corderoys,  when  the  steamers  cannot  get 
up  the  river ; from  thence  a railroad  runs  through  Georgia, 
the  Carolinas,  and  Virginia  to  the  Potomac,  below  Alexandria. 

There  is  a kind  of  clammy,  misty,  calm  heat  here  in  the 
south,  which  already  begins  to  be  felt  early  in  March ; one 
gasps  for  breath,  and  I look  with  wistful  eyes  down  the  street 
to  the  water-side  and  the  shipping. 


OFF  IN  A CEIPPEE  SCHOONEE.  150 

It  is  not  very  easy  to  get  away  from  Mobile  at  any  time  or 
. in  anj-  direction,  the  bay  and  the.  river  forming  almost  the 
i only  high  road.  There  is,  indeed,  an  irregular  communica- 
| tion  kept  np  with  Pensacola  by  a small  steam-boat  across  the 
i head  oi  the  bay  to  Blakely  (a  frame  town,  now  deserted  and 
• in  ruins,  in  a charming  elevated  spot  at  the  edge  of  the  pine 
forests  opposite,  distant  fourteen  miles),  from  whence  a small 
stage  makes  a devious  track  through  solemn,  noble,  silent 
i woods  for  near  sixty  miles  further,  to  Pensacola ; this,  indeed, 
is  the  mail,  and  the  only  means  of  transit,  except  by  water, 
i roimd  the  head  of  the  gulf.  There  is,  however,  not  much 
trade  as  yet  with  the  Ploridas,  and  not  many  passengers,  so 
that  a few  coasting  schooners  carry  backwards  and  forwards 
all  that  is  required ; the  poor  travellers  taking  their  chance 
on  board  of  getting  round  (a  hundred  miles),  it  may  be  in 
l twelve  hours,  or  it  may  be  in  a week,  for  the  bay  and  the 
1 gulf  are  very  capricious,  and  if  it  blows,  the  getting  out  and 
in  over  the  bars  often  dangerous. 

I had  had  my  eye  for  some  days  on  a beautiful  schooner 

[bound  roimd ; but  the  promises  to  sail  any  given  day  are  par- 
ticularly pie-crust  hereabouts  ; indeed,  it  always  depends  on 
when  they  can  make  up  a cargo  ; the  cabin  passengers  only 
i being  considered  extra,  as  an  inferior  live  lumber.  My 
[ schooner  was  to  take  round  salt,  and  iron  machinery,  and 
bring  back  ready-made  window  frames,  and  sashes,  and  any 
r other  notions. 

The  captain,  a gay,  good-looking,  fast  young  fellow,  divided 
his  time  between  smoking  at  the  stores  of  his  friends,  and 
riding  down  below  the  lighthouse  to  a certain  handsome  villa, 
where  a certam  pair  of  bright  eyes  enslaved  his  volatile  soul ! 
— volatile  as  the  foam  of  the  breakers  at  Mobile  Point.  The 
gulf  waters,  and  wild  liberty,  were  dear  to  him  as  a Maliom- 
! medan  paradise.  He  had  been  a midshipman,  but  some  lieu- 
‘ tenant  on  the  quarter-deck  of  a frigate  had  dared  to  reprimand 
him,  and  he  had  pitched  the  navy  to  limbo.  Whenever  I 
could  catch  this  mercurial  child  of  the  blue  wave  (and  of  a 
most  fanciful  velvet  cap)  on  board,  we  were  to  be  off  “ right 
.away;”  however,  at  the  end  of  a week  we  started  in  good 
l earnest,  and  in  what  I thought  a dead  calm.  But  it  is  asto- 
nishing how  these  critturs  (clipper  schooners) — which  are  par- 
ticularly “ things  of  life” — how  they  creep  away,  as  the  cap- 
tain whistled,  with  the  last  breath  of  air.  The  glassy  surface 
of  the  bay  was  like  a mirror,  as  we  crept  along  among  the 
innumerable  drift  logs  by  the  lighthouse,  and — got  aground ! 
for  it  was  low  water,  and  we  drew  eight  feet,  an  unheard  of 
depth  for  any  vessel  under  300  tons ; but  she  had  been  built 
for  a revenue  cruiser. 

It  was  veiy  tedious  in  the  bay  on  the  mud,  though  our  cap- 


160 


A DAEKY  STEWARD  AND  BOY  JEM. 


tain  had  his  sails  set  point  device  ; and  what  loves  of  sails  an 
spars  ! He  convinced  me,  too,  that  his  cabin  had  no  equal- 
nor  had  his  cook,  who  put  before  us  some  beefsteaks  an 
dough-hoys,  of  a greasiness,  toughness,  and  solidity,  to  def 
the  universal  world  to  match.  But  there  was  an  Irish  tailo 
and  a lady  friend  of  his  (in  early  life  from  the  sod — a widow 
God  help  her,  and  well  to  do  in  the  world),  who  gravely,  wit', 
due  decorum,  made  their  way  even  through  these  gutta  perch 
dumplings.  But  as  we  sat  in  state  we  had  a tall,  handsome 
mulatto  steward,  who  superintended  their  despatch  with 
demure  face,  and  I thought  somewhat  with  the  least  taste  ii 
life  of  dry  humour  in  the  twinkle  of  his  eye,  as  he  exchange! 
nudges  and  winks  with  au  attendant  cabin-boy — Jem,  wli 
was  originally  of  Liverpool,  hut  now  on  his  travels  on  tb 
high  road  to  fortune!  Three  times  had  this  heroic  hoy 
starving  about  the  streets  in  rags,  stowed  himself  away  ii 
ships ; three  times  been  found  out,  well  cuffed,  and  turnec 
hack ; always  half  naked ! He  persevered,  poor  lad,  and  a 
last  a good-natured  captain  let  him  work  his  passage  over 
and  here  he  was,  well  paid,  well  dressed,  and  ill  washed,  tin 
chief  man  (after  the  black  steward),  with  a very  considerable 
influence  over  his  master  the  skipper. 

It  was,  however,  only  in  the  cabin  this  respectful  state  was 
kept  up.  I have  reason  to  think  both  J em  and  the  darkji 
steward  had  the  greatest  contempt  for  a poor  half-starvec 
seedy-weedy  Yankee  family,  who  sat  on  the  casks,  or  a spars 
spar  on  deck,  and  ate  their  very  frugal  meal  out  of  their 
family  wallet,  helped  out  with  the  family  pipe,  which  wen 
from  the  long,  lean,  woe-hegone  father  to  his  attenuated  wife 
next  in  turn,  and  thence  shifted  to  the  lantern-jaws  of  ther 
son  and  heir. 

I think  in  my  life  I never  saw  such  a set  of  wretchec 
“’atomies” — bad  living,  and  no  living,  and  fever  and  ague 
had  worn  them  to  the  hone ; there  was  a little  daughte] 
leaner,  if  possible,  and  more  sallow  than  the  rest.  Thej 
looked  as  if  the  swamp  jungles  had  drawn  them  all  up  into  i 
sort,  of  walking-sticks — in  fact,  it  had.  They  were  a kind  o 
roving  squatters  in  the  woods  and  on  patches  of  cleared  lane 
deserted  by  the  owners,  or  not  owned  at  all ; or  if  they  ren 
any  sort  of  farm,  flit  off  by  moonlight  as  the  rent  day  comes 
round.  I saw  two  or  three  parties  of  this  kind  coming  dowi 
the  great  rivers — and  they  are  not  infrequent  here — as  soli 
tary,  wild,  and  penniless  as  any  ragged  peat -hut  cottier  ol 
Connemara. 

A breeze  and  a thuuder-gust  brought  us  down  the  bay,  anc 
we  anchored  in  a fog  among  the  town  of  cotton  ships. 

Next  day  the  fog,  a sort  of  driving  mist,  continues.  Bui 
nothing  can  stop  our  thorough  sea  captain ; he  knew  the  coas 


A TILLAGE  OF  PILOTS. 


161 


- i as  well  as  tlie  pilots.,  who  have  a village,  and  live  like  fightiug- 
4 cocks,  on  the  long  sandy  peninsula  which  forms  the  southern 
, [ end  of  the  bay. 

AYitk  our  resources  (four  hands  before  the  mast),  getting 
on  shore  on  this  sandy  beach  and  lying  there  all  day,  was 
T nothing — with  an  anchor  dropped  from  the  main-boom  end 
.j  (we  had  no  boats,  and  fired  our  one  gun  in  vain  to  the  pilots 
j in  sight),  we  hove  the  old  lass  off  towards  evening,  and  the 
mist  moving  away,  we  ran  down  and  anchored  among  a 
j scpiadron  of  pilot  schooners  at  the  village.  Skipper  and  I 
went  on  shore  (he  had  left  his  boat  here),  roved  across  some 
I lagoons,  and  through  the  myrtle,  magnolia,  and  pine  jungle, 
j across  to  the  outer  shore,  where  clear  blue  old  ocean  rippled 
7 as  we  picked  up  shells.  On  this  solitary  beach  an  Irishman 
J passed  us,  barefoot ; we  stared,  as  he  rather  avoided  us  (we 
jjJ  found  afterwards  that  he  had  bolted  from  the  caboose,  as  cook 
vj  of  ope  of  the  pilot  boats). 

7 It  was  too  early  for  the  alligators ; and  we  only  saw  one 
1 moccasin  snake.  Returning,  at  a likely  widow’s  kind  of 
public-house,  we  had  a go  of  rum — got  a stock  of  real  Havanas 
1.  ■ — and  off  again.  Several  jolly  pilots,  our  skipper’s  friends, 
came  on  board  to  smoke  and  drink  ; and  one  might  have 
...  fancied  oneself  among  the  buccaneers  of  Dampier’s  time. 

1 Hext  day  we  were  as  nearly  lost  on  the  breakers  between 
7 the  entrance  lighthouses  as  ipossible ; the  sea  (and  ground 
swell  on  the  bar)  was  tremendous.  The  wind  lulled  as  we 
7 beat  out  in  its  teeth,  just  as  we  made  a critical  short  board  ; 
1 but  “miss  is  as  good  as  a mile,”  we  breathed  again,  and 
V earnestly  thank  God  for  it ; it  was  so  near  ending  badly.  In 
7 the  evening  our  capital  captain  landed  us  at  the  Barancas, 

" near  the  navy  yard.  As  we  shook  hands,  I felt  really  sorry 
: to  part  with  so  good  a fellow. 

IT  The  Barancas  (de  San  Carlos)  is  at  the  mouth  of  the  har- 
7.  hour  of  Pensacola  (which  is  but  a small  town  six  miles  higher 
l.up  the  inlet  at  the  mouth  of  the  Escambia).  Here  the  United 
7 States  has  four  heavy  forts,  large  brick  barracks,  a hospital, 
,t  and  naval  dockyard ; all  excellent  of  their  kind,  and  in  the 
7 most  exact  order  ; indeed,  the  dry  dock  and  floating  dock,  off 
7 the  yard,  are  stupendous.  This  floating  dock  can  bring  in  or 
j out  any  line-of-battle  ship  ( complete ) over  twelve  feet  water, 
7 though,  indeed,  there  is  twenty  feet  on  the  bar,  at  the  har- 
' hour’s  mouth ; and  thirty  at  the  dock  gates.  The  two  or 
• three-decker  is  thus  transferred  to  the  dry  dock  if  necessary  ; 
" where  slips,  steam-engines,  and  a railroad,  can  run  her  up  an 
: incline  to  the  back  of  the  yard ! 

Here  just  now  an  able  man,  Commodore  Stocton,  presides  ; 
^ he  is  a senator,  and  has  lately  carried  a bill  through  both 
7 houses  to  abolish  flogging  in  the  nai-y ! It  is  not  liked  by 


162 


DOCKYARD — PENSACOLA. 


naval  officers ; but  becomes,  I conclude,  imperative,  to  suit 
the  change  of  ideas  of  the  age. 

The  naval  and  military  officers  and  families  here  make  a 
very  pleasant  society.  They  have  it  all  to  themselves  in  these 
blue  waters,  snow-white  sands,  and  silent  woods  ! Above  and 
below  the  yard  small  wooden  towns  have  started  up  (Warring- 
ton) nearly  as  large  as  Pensacola  itself.  The  “ appropriations  ” 
for  the  naval  service  are  very  heavy,  and  the  dollars  attract 
loose  storekeepers,  tradesmen,  workmen,  and  speculators ; 
though  Pensacola  itself  scarcely  holds  on  its  population — a 
dozen  or  two  of  frame-houses,  burnt  down  seven  years  ago, 
have  left  their  brick  chimneys  standing  as  monumental  warn- j 
ings  to  the  go-aheads  ! 

But  a few  years  gone  by,  and  all  this  was  Spanish.  Their 
names  remain,  mixed  with  the  Indian  ones  ; as  do  some  few 
families,  or  their  half  Anglo-American  descendants,  as  at 
Mobile  and  New  Orleans.  But  I have  no  elbow-room  to 
plod  on  sensibly  in  facts  ; we  may  learn  them  from  almanacks. 
I must  “ catch  the  living  ” alligators  “ as  they  rise  !”  I saw 
one  fellow  swimming  across  the  lagoon  at  the  back  of  the 
Barancas,  just  through  a belt  of  woods ; all  these  shores  are 
lined  along  the  beach  by  ribbons  of  shallow  lagoons,  full  of  ‘ 
fish,  snakes,  frogs,  and  alligators  ; he  was  a long  way  off,  and 
I only  saw  his  snout  going  along.  I often  look  cautiously 
among  the  dogwood  bushes,  myrtle,  and  oleanders,  for  the 
moccasin  snake.  They  are  said  to  be  dangerous.  I only  saw 
one,  and  with  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent  it  quickly  stole  out 
of  the  way  of  that  foolish,  but  much  more  wicked  animal — man. 

As  there  is  not  a stone  hi  all  this  country,  they  employ,  as 
I have  said,  the  shells  found  in  some  spots  in  vast  masses  (the  | 
Gnathodon)  to  make  short  roads;  here  they  have  made  a 
chip-road  of  a mile  long  from  the  dockyard  to  the  barracks  at 
the  Barancas — (the  chips  from  the  dockyard) — a delightful 
drive;  but  already  the  fine  sands  under  it  are  swallowing  it 
up ; as  they  do  the  shells  and  everything  laid  on  its  surface, 
in  a very  short  time.  Mould  and  manure  are  alike  engulphed, 
so  that  agriculture  of  any  kind  is  only  seen  here  and  there, 
oven  in  the  open  country  ; a garden  still  more  rarely.  The-i 
fig-tree  is  very  luxuriant,  however ; and  cultivated  flowers 
when  kept  in  tubs  or  pots  to  secure  the  mould. 

Nothing  of  the  kind  can  be  more  admirable  than  these 
shores ; the  celestial  blue  of  the  ocean,  the  dazzling  white  | 
purity  of  the  beach,  the  aromatic  perfume  of  these  intermin- 
able pine  forests,  and  the  luscious  odour  of  a thousand 
flowering  shrubs  and  creeping  tendrils,  all  for  a moment  fill 
the  soul  with  delight — as  we  gratefully  contemplate  this 
beauteous  variety  of  nature — “ up  to  nature’s  God,”  it  is  per- 
fect in  itself!  But  one  must  be  “to  the  manner  born;”  the 


BAEANCAS  DE  SAN  CAELOS. 


163 


heats  clry  up  us  Europeans  to  mummies,  the  sands  blind  us  ; 
the  woods  have  few  or  no  fruits  ; reptiles  and  insects  assert 
their  right  of  dominion,  are  not  to  be  killed  off  so  easily  as 
the  Indians,  and  lire  and  swarm  very  properly  to  plague  us. 
At  some  seasons,  too,  fogs  and  damp  moving  mists  sweep  in 
from  the  ocean,  rust  and  putrify  things  ; in  spite  of  a fire  in 
my  room,  my  portmanteau  was  covered  thick  with  mildew, 
even  while  in  use. 

Every  now  and  then  the  sun  flashed  out,  and  anon  you 
could  not  see  ten  yards  before  you.  The  flying  clouds  swept 
the  sands  (the  simple  fact,  indeed),  but  so  loaded  with  salt  as 
to  make  it  doubly  disagreeable. 

I meant  to  return  to  Mobile  through  the  forest  by  the  stage 
to  Blakeley,  at  the  eastern  head  of  the  bay,  and  cross  in  the 
steamer  which  calls  there  from  Stockton,  further  up  the 
river.  Indeed,  it  is  the  only  road  and  the  only  conveyance ; 
for  by  water  there  is  no  sort  of  certainty,  either  by  sloop  or 
schooner. 

I cannot  say  farewell  to  these  comfortable  frame  board 
houses,  and  their  verandahs  under  a group  of  magnificent 
live  oaks,  whose  welcome  shade  gives  a double  zest  looking 
over  these  dazzling  sands  towards  the  harbour’s  entrance  and 
the  gulf  beyond,  where  the  light  blue  wave  cuts  the  horizon, 
leaving  all  around  here  wild,  grand,  silent  nature — for  the 
board  houses  of  the  domestic  slaves,  and  the  great  brick 
barracks,  stand  a little  further  back  at'the  edge  of  the  forest, 
and  the  noises  of  black  piccaninnies  and  pigs,  cocks,  hens,  and 
cows,  are  dispersed  and  absorbed  in  the  woods — I cannot 
leave  all  this  for  ever,  and  dear  kind  relations  and  friends 
whose  home  for  life  it  is,  without  a sigh.  How  much  of 
charming  and  of  good  ineffable  there  is  everywhere  over  the 
face  of  this  beautiful  world ! how  much  of  quiet  unobtrusive 
worth,  which  lives  and  dies  in  some  little  unknown  circle — as 
here  on  these  lone  distant  shores  ! But  I would  not  be  sad  ; 
and  other  pictures  I shall  equally  long  remember  are  rich  in 
funny  objects  and  things  to  move  one’s  mirth — none  more  so 
than  the  Massa  Higgers.  Here  is  the  stronghold  in  little  of 
• slavery,  as  if  to  plague  the  very  lives — for  fear  they  should 
have  found  an  Arcadia ! — of  their  unhappy  owners  ! These 
are  the  Uncle  Toms  peculiarly  pathetic,  in  sober  fact.  In  the 
house  where  I am,  the  master,  the  most  kind  and  soft-hearted 
man  that  ever  breathed,  in  an  evil  moment  bought  a young 
son  of  Africa  at  Mobile  for  600  dollars,  a boy  of  about 
fifteen,  as  a sort  of  Huttons.  Of  a nice  suit  or  two  his 
master  had  dressed  him  in  nothing  now  remained  but  the 
body  of  his  blue  jacket  and  red  collar,  the  sleeves  had  nearly 
departed ; and  the  rest  of  him  was  made  up  of  dirty  tatters. 
This  nigger  was  very  like  a monkey  in  the  expression  of  his 


NEGEO  AMUSEMENTS. 


164 

face,  and  in  sheer  comical  but  most  provoking  mischief ! He 
contrived  to  do  no  one  thing  he  was  told,  or  spoiled  whatever 
he  touched.  Half  the  time  he  was  not  to  he  found — busy, 
very  likely,  sucking  the  eggs,  chasing  the  young  pigs,  or  at 
marbles,  or  gambling  for  cents  with  other  young  idle  niggers 
like  himself  at  the  hack  of  the  stables.  He  cleaned  my  shoes, 
and  tied  the  strings  in  interminable  knots.  Hight  Randal 
was  his  name,  and  his  poor  master  had  to  he  eternally  after 
him.  But  the  day  did  not  suffice  for  the  mischief  of  this 
animal ; he  would  get  up  in  the  night,  take  the  pony  out  of 
the  stable,  and  ride  the  poor  thing  through  the  woods  and 
sands  of  the  beach  for  honrs,  till  daylight,  when  he  would 
slip  off  the  bridle  and  regain  his  own  bed.  He  was  detected 
by  their  finding  the  pony  in  a sweat,  and  quite  knocked  up ! 

Sometimes  he  was  sent  to  Warrington,  a mile  off  (at  the 
dockyard)  to  the  post-office  for  letters,  where  he  generally 
contrived  to  stay  two  or  three  hours,  though  he  was  sure  to 
go  and  come  at  full  gallop. 

Enter  Randal,  trolling  up  the  sand-bank,  seeing  his  master 
coming  towards  h im,  out  of  all  patience. 

Master. — You  Ban  dal,  where  have  you  been  all  this  time? 

Randal. — Been  to  Possuffice,  sa. 

Master. — What ! ever  since  ten  o’clock — now  three  hours  ? 

Randal. — I make  base,  sa.  Dare  am  no  letta. 

The  black  cook  wench  no  w comes  out  of  the  house. 

Cook. — Massa,  dere  is  no  eggs  dis  morning ! 

Master. — Ho  eggs ! why,  didn’t  Bandal  go  for  them  to  the 
stables  ? 

Cook  (grinning). — He  nebber  fetched  none,  anyhow— and 
said  as  how  de  skunk  eat  ’im ! 

Master.- — The  skunk ! why,  you  animal,  you  don’t  mean  to 
say  you  found  none  P 

Randal. — Yes,  massa,  I tell  cle  truffe — dere  was  two  tree 
shell! 

Master. — Two  or  three  shells ! If  Tom’s  not  gone  to  the 
dockyard,  yet,  send  him  here,  Kesiah ! 

Enter  Tom,  the  shipwright. 

Tom. — I knows  about  it.  Look  here,  massa,  dat  nigger 
Bandal,  tell  de  biggest  lie.  I seed  him  suck  de  eggs  myse’f— 
you  knows  dat.  Who  hollerd  arter  you  when  you  was  in  de 
loft,  dis  morning  ? I seed  you  through  the  chink ! My 
belief,  ’ta’nt  de  fuss  time,  by  chalks ! 

Master. — O,  you  devilish  skunk  ! 

Tom. — More  nor  dat — where  is  de  old  sow  and  de  seben 
piccaninny  I see  you  a chasing  troo  de  wood  right  over  to  do 
lagoon  ? I lay  dollar  de  crockumdile  got  some  on  ’em  afore 


COW-SKIN  COBHECTIONS.  165 

Master. — What  ? When  was  this  ? Why,  you  perpetual 
demon ! 

Torn. — O,  dere  is  plenty  more  tings.  Dere  is  no  use  telling 
dat  awful  chap  miffing.  I told  you,  you  massa  bring  you  up 
all  standing,  affore  long ! Sometime  lie  say  ’tis  de  dog,  some- 
time ’tis  de  wolf — may  be  de  eat — may  be  de  skunk — what 
do  sich  awful  trouble  ! You  catch  it  dis  time,  any  how ! — he, 
he,  he!  (They  all  grin.  Sandal  included.)  But  I must  cut 
my  stick  for  de  yard.  (To  Sandal,  half  aside  as  he  goes  off.) 
Look  out  for  squall.  De  old  man  getting  right  mad,  now — 
he,  he,  he ! 

Master. — You  young  imp.  The  skunks  eat  the  eggs,  do 
they  ? You’ve  made  haste,  have  you  ? Put  up  the  pony,  and 
get  yourself  ready  for  a dance  in  the  ball-room  ! 

This  hall-room  was  the  boat-house  on  the  beach,  where, 
when  Massa  Randal  had  done  something  extra  mischievous, 
his  master  whipped  him  with  a cowskin ; but  he  generally 
got  off  with  only  a box  on  the  ear.  But  to  correction  or 
kindness  he  was  equally  impervious ; nor  could  any  sort  of 
excuse  or  explanation  ever  be  got  out  of  him.  After  a year 
or  two,  in  which  he  nearly  wore  his  master  out — for  in  nothing 
could  he  trust  him  out  of  his  sight,  or  to  do  the  most  trifling 
thing — he  had  the  exquisite  pleasure  and  good  luck  to  get  rid 
of  him  at  last,  for  700  dollars,  to  some  other  unfortunate 
master.  My  friend  owned  several  other  slaves — the  women 
were  only  rather  dirty  and  lazy,  and  very  careless,  their 
mistress  managing  as  well  as  she  could  with  them — obliged, 
however,  to  be  chief  slave  herself,  and  to  have  an  eye  to 
everything  herself ; and  two  or  three  men  slaves,  not  wanted 
in  the  house,  were  hired  at  so  much  a month  (eighteen 
dollars)  in  the  dockyard — the  most  profitable  and  pleasant 
way  an  owner  has,  when  he  is  so  unlucky  as  to  possess  only 
this  kind  of  distressing  property. 

A friend  sailed  me  up  to  Pensacola  in  his  boat,  on  a de- 
lightful sunny  afternoon,  the  mists  clearing  off;  and  by 
running  hard  up  the  sandy  High-street,  without  looking  fight 
or  left,  I was  just  in  time  to  catch  the  mail  stage.  It  had 
started  from  its  own  tavern,  but  happily  had  pulled  up  at 
the  post-office  to  take  in  the  bag.  Like  all  tropical  small 
towns  (though  not  quite  within  the  line),  Pensacola’s  streets 
are  wide,  and  left  in  their  own  natural  sand  or  mud.  The 
houses  handsome,  of  wood  frame,  with  verandahs ; all  have 
small  gardens,  where  the  orange,  the  fig,  and  the  palmetto 
form  the  ornament,  shade,  and  almost  the  only  verdure,  from 
the  difficulty  of  keeping  any  mould  uppermost.  Turning 
the  corner  from  the  last  garden  palings,  we  were  almost 
at  once  in  the  pine-woods,  making  fanciful  tracks  in 
and  out  round  the  trees,  or  over  their  roots,  which  occa- 


166  LEAVE  PENSACOLA — THBOUGH  THE  WOODS. 

sionally  gave  us  such  jolts  as  only  can  be  enjoyed  in  a United 
States  stage ; it  would  at  once  break  the  springs  of  our 
coaches ; but  they  have  no  springs,  the  body  is  suspended  on 
two  huge  straps,  on  which  it  pitches  backwards  and  forwards. 
This  stage  was  the  most  comfortable  I have  ever  been  shaken 
in.  The  night  was  a bright  moonlight,  and  the  ride,  take  it 
altogether,  delightful.  Silent,  sweet,  awful,  as  wc  flitted 
among  these  grand  living  columns  of  the  stately  pine,  no 
sound  but  the  rattle  of  the  harness  as  we  rolled  over  the  dead 
leaved  carpet:  nowand  then  the  “Whip-poor-will”  told  us 
he  was  wide  awake,  or,  as  we  descended  in  some  hollow,  a 
gentle  chorus  of  bull-frogs  greeted  us.  Once  or  twice  a 
rustle  near  us  among  the  leaves  told  us  of  startled  deer,  but 
they  are  getting  scarce. 

Every  eight  or  ten  miles  we  came  to  cleared  patches,  a 
farm,  or  small  hamlet,  of  log  or  frame-houses,  and  a small 
circle  of  cultivated  fields  ; at  these  we  watered  the  horses  ; 
and  the  only  passenger  with  me,  who  chattered  of  his  own 
wonderful  sayings  and  adventures  incessant  the  whole  night, 
treated  his  victim  (the  driver),  having  some  conscience,  to  a 
go  of  whisky.  We  changed  our  pair  of  horses,  I think,  only 
three  times  (sixty  miles) ; once  or  twice  the  driver  pulled  up 
in  the  depths  of  these  wild  woods,  started  off',  and  disappeared 
entirely,  but  soon  returned  with  a bucket  of  water  from  some 
fairy  dell  and  spring  he  only  knew  of. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  from  what  I say  of  the  sands  of 
Florida  that  it  is  all  sand  ; perhaps  it  only  occupies,  more  or 
less,  ten  or  fifteen  miles  of  the  sea  margin.  We  soon,  there- 
fore, got  to  a gently  undulating  country  through  the  woods, 
till  we  come  half-way  to  a tract  of  swamp,  and  over  a three 
mile  corderoy,  to  the  Perdido  river,  the  dividing  line  between 
West  Florida  and  Alabama;  this  is  a very  Acheron.  Over 
this  wide,  solemn,  dark,  deep  flood  we  were  ferried  at  mid- 
night, our  coachee  sounding  his  horn  in  advance,  while  we 
were  a mile  off,  floundering  slowly  in  the  ruts  and  holes  of  the 
terrible  corderoy. 

By  daylight  we  drew  near  the  edge  of  Mobile  Bay  and  the 
forest,  passing  a pretty  spot,  a hollow  and  a creek,  where  a 
Mr.  Sibley  has  made  a large  fortune  at  his  saw -mill;  and,  not 
content,  has  built  an  immense  cotton  factory,  which  it  is 
thought  will  undo  him.  By  sunrise  we  trot  the  last  mile 
along  the  cleared  country,  on  the  margin  of  the  bay,  where 
the  fields  looked  pleasant.  Honeysuckles  and  Cherokee  roses 
decked  the  way  as  we  drove  into  the  deserted  town  of 
Blakeley.  The  land  on  this  side  of  the  bay  has  a good  eleva- 
tion, and  a good  firm  soil,  and  the  town  is  delightfully  situated 
at  the  eastern  mouth  of  the  Alabama  river.  A few  years  ago 
it  was  all  life  and  bustle ; now  the  tavern  at  the  water-side  is 


THE  DESERTED  VILLAGE— BLAKELY. 


167 


alone  inhabited,  all  the  nice  frame-houses  are  shut  up  and 
going  to  ruin,  the  flowers  in  the  gardens  choked  with  weeds, 
all  owing  to  a mysterious  miasma,  which  kills  only  in  certain 
spots ; for  on  the  same  level  five  or  sis  miles  lower  down  the 
bay,  there  is  a great  hotel,  to  which  the  gentry  of  Mobile  fly 
in  summer  in  search  of  health.  In  this  “ deserted  village’’ 
the  court-house  is  alone  kept  open,  and  lo  ! the  county  sheriff 
had  just  landed  from  “ the  village,”  ten  miles  below,  with  a 
big  hirsute  ruffian,  whom  he  was  himself  obliged  to  shoot  (in  the 
leg)  before  he  would  submit  to  the  law.  This  brute  who  now 
came  limping  up,  supported  by  two  constables,  to  the  tavern 
porch,  had  been  amusing  himself  half  killing  a poor  woman, 
as  she  refused  to  sell  him  as  much  whiskey  as  he  wanted.  • 

The  steam-boat  was  in  sight,  snorting  down  the  river ; 
while  we  waited  on  the  jetty  (this  was  the  court  day,  neither 
I judge,  jury,  nor  audience  visible),  it  was  said  another  case  of 
I violence  was  ready  for  the  sheriff  and  constables  somewhere 
i near ; and  a third  job  appeared  in  the  person  of  a wounded 
1 woman,  who  came  limping  along  from  the  woods  in  search  of 
a constable  to  look  after  her  husband,  who  “had  cut  her  to 
( pieces  and  run  off  into  the  ‘bush’  with  their  two  children.” 

, This  woman  was  the  picture  of  famine  and  misery,  as  she  sat 
* on  a log. 

On  being  asked  if  she  lived  far  off,  she  exclaimed,  “ Oh, 
I live  nowhere.  He  never  would  settle  in  no  place,  but  keeps 
■ moving  about.”  VV  hat  a scene,  and  what  a tale,  here  in  this 
smiling,  deserted,  melancholy  Arcadia ! 

We  thread  the  channels  of  the  flat  islands,  and  land  at 
Mobile  in  an  hour  and  a half,  about  fourteen  miles  across. 
But  I am  hurried  from  Mobile  with  the  barest  notice  of  it. 
Trade  and  speculation,  as  in  all  their  cities,  is  the  one  ab- 
sorbing thing.  • The  wharves  for  a mile  are  piled  with  cotton 
| bales,  unloaded  and  loading  (from  the  river  above) ; the  very 
I trees  are  draped  and  made  ugly  by  its  flying  about. 

If  they  have  a sensation,  or  a moment  for  the  fine  arts, 
it  is  the  stage  and  music.  Catherine  Hayes,  Mrs.  Bishop, 
Bochsa,  and  Kossuth,  stir  (hem  up  to  enthusiasm  alternately, 

. and  carry  off  their  dollars.  The  theatre  and  circus  are  open, 
and  small  stars  strut  their  hour — a Sir  William  Don  so-so  in 
comedy,  and  a Mr.  Nefie  execrable  in  tragedy,  but  the  riding 
and  clowns  not  so  bad. 

Away,  away,  the  Mara  is  loaded,  cabin,  deck,  and  all,  with 
cotton  bales.  She  is  a lovely  barque — beautiful  exceedingly ! 
I can’t  stand  on  trifles ; I see  there  is  just  room  to  sit  at  a 
small  table  by  the  mizenmast.  Captain  Parks  is  a charming 
man,  and  will  take  me  slick  away  to  Boston  for  thirty -five 
dollars.  Ho  wine,  no  spirits — the  only  thing  on  earth,  or  on 
the  wide  waters  of  the  earth,  he  sets  his  face  against ; so  we 


168 


GULF  OF  MEXICO— GVLF  STEF  AM. 


grasp  hands,  done — the  last  hale  is  crammed  in ; a steamer, 
Mrith  cotton  for  the  cotton  ships  below,  takes  ns  in  tow,  and 
by  next  day  (only  getting  on  the  mud  once)  I find  myself 
once  more  clearing  Mobile  Point  and  crossing  that  awful  bar. 

Adieu,  ye  muddy  rivers,  bright  white  sands,  magnolias,  live 
oaks,  pines,  and  festooned  flowery  swamps  ! Yet  am  I sorry 
to  part  with  ye — “ It  may  be  for  aye,  and  it  may  be  for  ever” 

— but  other  lands,  and  other  flowers,  and  other  beings  call  me 
away,  far  away,  over  old  Ocean’s  tide.  We  have  a tedious 
week  in  the  Gulf,  struggling  with  fantastic  winds,  and  calms, 
and  squalls,  to  the  Tortugas ; a string  of  islands  along  the  i 
extreme  south  point  of  Eastern  Florida,  some  700  miles, 
before  we  can  round  this  point  and  get  into  the  high  road  of 
the  Gulf  Stream. 

Our  barque  sails  like  a witch — better  than  the  Water  Witch 
— and  is  as  stiff  as — a midshipman  on  lialf-pay ! in  spite  of  1 
the  cotton  lumbering  her  deck.  Parks  (who  is  the  best-tem- 
pered man  I ever  knew — he  never  uttered  one  cross  word  the 
whole  voyage,  even  when  wet  through  and  blown  to  atoms) 
owns  her,  and  other  pleasant  things;  a “ dulce  domum  et  ' 
placens  uxor”  somewhere  up  some  little  river  in  Connecticut, 
where  he  looked  sharp  after  the  building  of  this,  his  second 
wife,  and  the  breath  of  his  nostrils ; runs  her  anywhere  for 
freight,  home  or  abroad.  He  was  just  across  from  the  Medi- 
terranean with  fruit,  and  would  think  nothing  of  Canton, 
Calcutta,  or  Honololu,  at  a day’s  notice — ice  or  cotton,  flour, 
hardware— nay,  coals  ; he’d  “ carry  coals”  from  Newcastle  to 
Ningpo — anything  anywhere,  only  come  up  to  his  mark  as  to  ! 
the  figure  of  the  freight  per  ton.  He  inveighed  much  at  the 
delays  (and  so  did  other  skippers)  at  Mobile,  and  would  have 
gone  on  to  New  Orleans,  but  it  would  have  cost  him  500 
dollars  to  go  round  ; for  pilots,  steam-tugs,  and  other  taxes. 
He  gets  3J  to  4 dollars  per  ton,  and  refused  to  take  a cent 
less  (for  Wenham-lake  ice  to  Mobile)  in  Boston  on  our  arrival. 
Ours  is  an  excellent  cabin,  but  it’s  full  of  cotton  ; it  blows  in- 
cessant and  adverse,  but  we  carry  on  canvas  no  man-of-war 
would  dare  to  show,  and  our  seamanship  is  equally  admirable 
with  our  ship.  I go  to  bed,  and  hold  on  the  side  of  my  cabin 
berth  by  way  of  passing  the  time. 

Mr.  Jones,  who  is  a wag,  and  loves  South  Boston  baked 
beans  and  pork  better  than  dinde  aux  truffes , is  for  ever 
quizzing  a raw,  pretty  Irish  girl,  the  “stewardess,”  bound  in 
indissoluble  wedlock  to  the  steward  and  cook,  an  angular, 
ill-favoured  “ down  Easter,”  who,  in  turn,  is  a shade  jealous 
of  said  mate,  and  doesn’t  relish  jokes — nohow,  I guess. 

“ And  how  is  yourself,  and  how  is  the  peraties,  this  tip-top 
o’  the  morning,  Mrs.  Norah  ?” 


ALONG  THE  COAST  TO  CAPE  COD.  169 

“ Augh,  then ! Mistlier  Jones,  honld  yer  wish,  and  let  me 
be,  anyhow ” 

But  Jones  was  glorious  (when  not  at  the  fore-royal  yard,  or 

{'lb-boom  end,  or  re-stowing  our  ragged  cotton,  or  sextant  in 
land  for  the  longitude)  at  fishing ; he  caught  in  succession  a 
bonito,  a barracouta,  and,  lastly,  a large  dolphin  ! I looked 
with  pity  on  his  dying  throes  ; nothing  is  exaggerated  of  the 
ineffable  beauty  of  its  colours  in  their  shadow’d  changes ! 
How  hard  to  die ! How  long  it  lashed  the  deck  ; alternate 
bright  green,  saffron,  and  silver,  edged  with  its  dark  blue 
dorsal  fin ; then,  dying,  a mottled  azure.  Oh,  noble,  superb 
creature  ! have  we  marred  thy  beauty ! I cannot  bear  these 
agonies.  Unconscious,  merry  Jones  is  for  a moment  hateful. 

: But  we  all  thought  it  excellent  eating  the  next  half  hour ; all 
my  fine  silent  sentiment  vanished  in  the  frying-pan ; but  are 
we  ever  half  an  hour  consistent  ? 

We  had  an  extremely  rough  passage,  the  wind  in  our  teeth 
the  whole  way ; but  we  kept  in  the  Gulf  Stream,  and  but 
once  sighted  the  American  low  shore  ; none  of  the  Bahamas. 
' This  run  is  nearly  equal  to  a voyage  home  ; few  sail  cheered 
our  sight ; one  English  barque,  about  our  own  size  (380  tons), 
we  passed  like  a shot ; she,  labouring  in  the  gale  the  victim  of 
our  vicious  build,  fit  for  nothing  ; besides,  she  was  too  deep 
in  rum  and  sugar  from  our  ruined  isles. 

Parks  and  I often  talked  on  this  subject,  so  mortifying  to 
one’s  pride  of  country.  “But,”  says  he,  “I  looked  sharp 
after  my  Mara  on  the  slips  ; this  here  six-inch  plank  capping 
the  topside  fore  and  aft,  I would  have  first-rate,  for  the  waist; 
they  are  seventy -five  feet,  best  white  or  live  oak.  I made  the 
builder  change  them  twice.  I was  bound,  I cal’late  (calculate), 
to  have  it  first-rate,  no  flaws,  no  knots,  no  nonsense.  I stood 
on  my  own  gunwale,  sir — yes,  siree.”  We  had  a handsome 
figure-head,  an  Indian  chief’s  bust,  he  explained  it.  “Well, 
sir,  I was  down  in  Mara-caibo  in  the  Bight  often — that  is  a 
harbour ! its  name  comes  of  a chief,  so  I have  just  cut  it  in 
half,  that’s  it !”  He  cut  all  long  words  in  half ; for  the 
[ skipper  had  no  notion  of  superfluous  syllables  or  impediment 
in  anything.  At  last,  after  twenty-one  tedious  days’  beating 
i and  buffeting  in  a rough  sea,  we  ran  into  smooth  water  and 
fogs,  among  a cluster  of  islands  on  the  coast  below  Cape  Cod, 
called  Martha’s  Vineyard,  and  took  a pilot  for  the  Cape. 

I am  once  more  only  near  Boston,  “ bound  to  go  there,” 
as  the  captain  said,  and  I take  his  word  for  it,  for  no  half  mile 
is  ever  lost  for  want  of  good  seamanship,  and  a never  sleeping 
vigilance. 


170 


. 

- 

CHAPTER  X. 

■ 

MARTHA’S  VINEYARD — BOSTON — LOWELL — NEW  LONDON- 
LONG  ISLAND— CLIPPER  LINER  HOME. 

Sailing  among  these  islands  in  smooth  water,  after  the 
kicking  about  we  have  had  for  twenty  days,  is  very  delightful. 
This  is  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood,  I think,  of  that  little 
gem,  belonging  to  Mr.  Daniel  Webster,  Lady  Emmeline 
Stuart  mentions  as  so  picturesque  and  charming;  but  we 
could  only  see  it  at  a distance  as  we  threaded  our  way 
through  shoals  and  rocky  passages ; their  villages  and  har- 
bours looking  very  inviting,  with  their  numerous  coasting 
craft  at  anchor  or  under  sail;  others  busy  fishing,  while  scat- 
tered farms,  and  their  cattle  grazing,  enlivened  the  scene  ; all 
the  more  pleasing  on  a fair  sunny  day,  as  the  night  before  wo 
were  threatened  with  a gale  from  the  east. 

Passing  the  island  of  Nantucket,  we  fly  along  the  low  sandy 
shores  which  form  Cape  Cod ; and  our  old  weather-beaten 
fanner-looking  pilot  for  this  inner  passage  is  superseded  off 
thq  light-house  by  a smart  young  fellow  of  the  bay,  much 
against  his  will  (as  he  had  some  faint  hopes  of  evading  him  j 
and  taking  us  on) ; but  these  beauteous  white-winged  sea-  j 
gulls  of  pilot-boats  are  too  numerous  and  sharp-sighted  to 
leave  a chance,  she  pounced  on  us  like  a hawk,  and  we  beat  in 
through  the  numerous  rocky  islands  and  shoals  of  tliis  vast 
bay  in  the  teeth  of  half  a gale  of  wind,  with  royals  set  and 
colours  flying. 

The  passage  to  the  inner  harbour,  guarded  by  Eort  Inde- 
pendence to  the  left  on  Castle  Island,  and  a battery  on  j 
Thompson’s  Island  to  the  right ; where  there  is  a very  large 
general  hospital,  to  which  young  medical  students  repair  for  i 
practice,  as  ours  do  to  Guy’s  or  St.  George’s — getting  in 
against  the  wind  through  so  narrow  a passage  is  a ticklish 
affair,  tack  and  half  tack  ; but  our  barque  can  go  about  in  her 
own  length,  and  towards  night  we  are  anchored,  previous  to 
being  warped  in  for  the  night — for  the  whole  line  of  wharves 
are  so  crammed  with  ships  in  double  and  treble  tiers,  that  it  I 
has  to  be  carefully  ascertained  where  room  for  us  can  be 
found,  not  too  far  from  the  cotton  marts,  which  lie  at  the 
north  end  of  Commercial-street,  the  leading  thoroughfare  in 
the  lower  part  of  the  town.  We  find  it  now,  the  last  of 
April,  very  cold,  and  not  a leaf  out  on  the  trees  : ten  degrees 
south  of  the  Isle  of  Wight ! I would  fain  say  more  of  these 
islands — a most  interesting  group — full  of  villages  and  har- 


BOSTON — SAILOES — CEI3IPS. 


171 


hours,  with  hundreds  of  coasting  schooners,  sloops,  and  fishing 
smacks,  darting  about  with  their  white  sails,  or  at  anchor  by- 
dozens  in  various  nooks  and  coves.  Coming  up  the  coast  to 
the  north,  to  Boston,  this  is  called  the  inner  passage ; it  is 
intricate,  full  of  shoals,  and  full  of  pilots,  which  make,  indeed, 

! the  American  waters,  in  spite  of  their  numerous  and  fine  har- 
bours, very  expensive  to  their  merchantmen.  The  Mara  paid 
about  fifty  dollar's  to  her  two  pilots — two  and  a half  to  three 
dollars  a foot — she  drew  only  ten  feet. 

Our  first  old  fellow  (pilot),  who  had  been  a man-of-war’s 
man,  farmer,  captain,  storekeeper,  and  fisherman,  having  left 
his  schooner  among  the  islands  outside,  rejoins  her  by  the 
! railway  to  Plymouth,  or  one  of  the  numerous  towns  below  on 
the  coast. 

But  I must  trifle  no  longer,  on  board  ship.  We  pass  the 
effective  battery  on  Castle  Island,  close  to  the  city,  anchor, 
and  warp  to  “Battery”  Wharf,  in  the  cotton- warehouse 
quarter. 

My  skipper,  the  best  creature  alive,  has  got  his  best  coat 
on  ; he  cal’ates  them  varmint  won’t  leave  him  one  of  his  men 
on  board — boarding-house  touters  who  rush  on  board  the 
moment  we  touch  the  wharf,  and  seize  on  the  men  ; pestering 
them  with  their  lying  promises — in  five  minutes,  swamp  ’em ; 
and,  indeed,  off  they  go  (the  case  with  all  their  ships)  the 
moment  the  dear  little  Mara  is  lashed  fast.  Seamen  are  now 
at  a premium  ; though,  poor  devils,  for  ever  the  silly  victims 
of  alternate  tyranny  or  cunning.  In  the  States  it  is  a rare 
thing  for  a sailor  to  ship  a second  time  with  the  same  captain, 
or  the  same  ship,  even  when  they  have  no  particular  fault  to 
find : what  with  the  water-side  boarding-houses,  lying  crimps, 
and  their  own  excessive  folly — nay,  intermittent  madness — it 
is  as  hard  to  man  a ship  this  year  (1852)  in  Boston,  as  it  is  to 
man  a Queen’s  ship  in  England.  The  same  thing  exactly 
goes  on  at  Liverpool ; indeed,  the  seaports  of  the  two  countries 
are  getting  more  like  each  other  every  day,  not  only  as  to 
sailors,  but  in  all  the  business  of  everyday  life. 

Boston  is  really  a fine  city  ; her  grandeur  and  riches  are  as 
■ conspicuous  in  her  noble  public  buildings  as  in  her  immense 
long  wharves,  towering  warehouses,  and  forests  of  shipping, 
which  fringe  the  whole  water-side  of  the  town,  on  projecting 
wharves,  some  of  them  half  a mile  long,  which  jut  out  like 
the  teeth  of  a comb. 

The  body  of  the  place  is  almost  surrounded  by  water ; as 
it  is  built  on  a neck  of  land  bending  round  from  the  heights 
of  Canton  and  Boxbury  westward,  and  ending  at  the  bridge 
at  Charleston  ; the  eastern  suburb — East  Boston — though  on 
an  island,  sweeping  round  by  Charleston,  Chelsea,  and  the 
navy-yard,  completes  the  harbour  on  this  side,  while  on  the 


172 


bikds’  eye  views. 


south  it  is  prolonged  opposite  in  suburb  streets,  called  South 
Boston,  together  with  the  “ Common  ” (a  small  park-like  l 
triangle  in  the  centre,  of  fifty  acres,  not  so  large  as  our 
Green  Park).  This  undulating  neck  is  not  wanting  in  requi-  i 
site  space ; though  all  behind  the  town  to  the  north  and  west 
is  cut  off  from  the  country  by  a shallow  lagoon  or  inlet,  across 
which  long  causeways  and  drawbridges  hare  been  constructed, 
and  the  railroads  to  the  south  and  west.  These  waters  are 
rather  a convenience  for  sloops  aud  barges  loaded  for  the 
suburbs,  Cambridge,  Dorchester,  aud  Eoxbury,  which  pass 
the  drawbridges,  to  supply  the  environs  beyond  the  tide,  for 
twro  or  three  miles.  All  this  country  is  rocky,  with  clean 
sandy  shores.  Hills,  and  nice  undulations  of  the  land  are 
everywhere,  in  and  out  of  the  town.  The  Capitol,  or  State- 
house,  stands  conspicuous  on  its  hill  at  the  head  of  the  com- 
mon; and  the  grand  monument  looms  afar  from  Bunker's 
Hill,  on  the  Charleston  side,  which  is  but  a suburb  prolonged 
to  East  Boston,  where  the  great  sea  steamers  he,  and  much  of  : 
the  crowded  shipping  ; where  there  is  a railroad  station,  and  1 
where  several  of  their  chief  ship-building  yards  are  established, 
beyond  the  U.  S.  dockyard  ; but  all  this  can  give  no  idea  of 
what  the  thing  really  is.  From  many  elevated  spots  in  and 
out  of  the  town  the  whole  can  be  seen  at  a glance — a glorious 
panorama.  Whether  one  looks  from  old  Fort  W ashington,  on 
the  hill  in  South  Boston,  towards  Bunker’s  HiU,  northward, 
or  from  the  great  granite  monument,  one  looks  to  the  south  at 
the  city,  the  country,  and  the  islands  of  the  bay  outside. 

As  a whole,  perhaps  the  richest  and  most  complete  view 
may  be  had  from  the  gentle  hills  about  Canton ; a village, 
among  others,  which  stud  the  frame  of  hills  beyond  the  water,  I 
inside  the  city,  at  three  or  four  miles’  distance.  To  the  north,  1 
on  the  Cambridge  side,  and  towards  Mount  Auburn  Ceme-  1 
tery,  the  country  is  more  flat.  This  same  Cambridge  (we  1 
have  everywhere  our  own  old  familiar  names)  is  a kind  of  I 
town  of  villas  and  garden-houses,  with  here  and  there  a street;  j] 
the  whole  spreading  four  or  five  miles  into  the  country,  I 
almost  as  far  as  the  cemetery,  which  lies  beyond  it.  Here,  I 
too,  they  have  their  chief  university — plain  large  buildings,  . I 
like  grammar  schools  rather  than  what  we  call  universities  jj 
(thinking  of  Oxford  or  Cambridge,  or  the  German  ones).  | 
They  may  not  be  the  less  effective;  but,  indeed,  all  the  ( 
states  of  New  England  are  remarkable  for  them  very  nu-  1 
merous  schools. 

Boston  is  the  most  irregularly  built  town  in  America.  I 
was  constantly  losing  myself  among  her  crooked  winding  j 
streets ; this  has  happened  partly  from  the  conformation  of  i 
the  ground,  and  the  careless  want  of  any  plan,  w hich  marks  j 
everything  English  two  hundred  years  ago,  when  the  pilgrim  i 


BUILDINGS — MOBAL  LAWS. 


173 


fathers  settled  here.  In  all  our  ill-built  towns  one  can  easily 
I trace  how  it  was  from  the  first  hut,  at  any  one  water  side  at 
our  seaports,  or  in  our  own  narrow  Strand,  which  at  first 
was  a row  of  huts  facing  the  river  at  a respectful  distance,  and 
leaving  a good  wide  strand  as  common  property. 

To  consider  the  more  minute  features,  I am  struck  by  the 
numbers  of  solid  granite  buildings  ; conspicuous  is  the  custom- 
house, town-hall,  Faneuil-hall,  and  others — great  hotels, 
the  Tremont  and  llevere,  where  I went,  at  the  end  of  Court- 
street — the  Tremont-temple  (just  burnt  down),  hotel,  and 
museum. 

The  town  reservoir  of  the  Cochituate  waterworks,  behind 
the  State-house,  is  very  remarkable ; so  is  the  great  north  or 
Fitchburg  railway-station,  with  its  grand  arches  and  em- 
battled towers,  all  of  solid  granite  ; even  the  domed  roof  of 
the  custom-house  is  of  granite.  This  solid  and  everlasting 
stone  forms  the  basement  of  half  the  larger  buildings  and 
private  houses,  and  strikes  the  eye  in  every  street ; so  that, 
together  with  the  excellent  brickwork  of  the  houses,  marble 
and  granite  steps,  window  and  door  frames,  pilasters,  cor- 
nices, &c.,  one  is  everywhere  impressed  with  an  idea  of  riches, 
solidity,  and  strength.  The  dimensions  of  their  public  and 
private  buildings,  here  and  in  all  the  American  cities,  taking 
the  latter  throughout,  in  their  more  retired  and  second-rate 
streets,  is  evidently  greater  than  our  own.  The  same  thing 
may  be  said  of  their  shops  in  general,  though  their  front  plate- 
glass  displays  and  arrangements  are  inferior. 

In  this  particular  Boston,  however,  cannot  vie  with  New 
York  or  Philadelphia ; she  is  serious  Minerva ; their  more 
staid  religious  sister — the  last  to  give  way  to  the  vanities  of 
this  world,  French  frippery,  or  English  pride  and  gorgeous 
| show  ; backed  and  surrounded  by  her  own  sober  state,  and  all 
New  England  still  clinging  in  their  countless  whiteboard 
' villages  and  weeping  willows  to  the  ascetic  gloom  and  gnash- 
ing of  teeth  of  then*  pilgrim  forefathers  in  this  vale  of  tears. 
The  Bostonians  have  been,  perhaps,  the  last  to  swim  with  the 
universal  current  of  fight  amusements  and  European  frivo- 
• lities  ; but  now  “ Young  America”  everywhere  carries  the 
day. 

In  vain  the  municipality  forbids  smoking  in  the  streets — • 
they  smoke  everywhere  else.  The  elders  and  shipping 
interest  frown  on  rum  and  whisky ; but  exchanges,  public- 
houses,  and  dram-shops  multiply.  The  Church,  and  her 
thousand  dissenting  clergymen,  look  demure  at  tea-parties, 
compose  ten  thousand  tedious  tracts,  and  fill  every  hotel  and 
tavern,  from  the  bar  to  the  attics,  with  Bibles  and  prayer- 
books.  The  youth  nightly,  en  masse,  fill  the  theatres,  concert- 
rooms,  and  auction-marts  to  overflowing.  The  softer  sex  try 


174 


FASHIONABLE  LITEEATUBE. 


to  make  a compromise  ; aud  if  they  dance  and  sing  and  n b“11' 


(ttt 

islet 

to 


isgetai 

iieib 
1 BP 
lit  0 
tnlsl 


about  all  the  week  after  the  profane  vanities  of  this  world  wi 
the  young  men,  at  least  are  very  strict  in  church  attendan 
Sunday  morning,  dressed  in  the  finest  tints  of  the  rainbo 
and  make  tremendous  pets  of  their  favourite  preachers. 

Still,  this  is  a stronghold  of  Minerva.  Book  stores  abounc 
half  the  female  world  are  authoresses  in  prose  or  poetr 
vying  with  the  men  in  pamphlets,  papers,  and  tracts ; some 
heavier  tomes. 

I see  just  nowin  eveiy  shop-window  “ Uncle  Tom”  an 
“ Queecliy,”  “ Wide,  Wide  World”  and  “ Forest  Trees,”  litt. 
dreaming  I should  come  home  to  find  them  also  in  possessio 
of  all  our  book-shops,  circulating  libraries,  and  railway  stations 
and  the  whole  reading  world  divided  between  these  tram 
atlantic  New  England  notions  and  the  more  astounding  “raj  !i!B1 
pings”  and  “ table  turnings.”  Well,  each  coming  year  mus  r '! 
have  its  own  peculiar  folly  or  madness.  What  signifies — pcopl 
must  have  novelty  and  be  amused ! Tired  of  our  own  preten 
tious  mediocrity  in  fiction,  we  are  trying  the  American.  0 , , 
course,  consistent,  fictitious  Mrs.  Stowe  will  feel  flattered  by  di  i::' 
viding  her  popularity  with  the  Black  Swan,  Aztecs,  and  the  Zuli  •*' 
Kaffirs — mais,  quo  voulez  vous  ? I often  stroll  about  the  streets 
not  unwilling  to  be  lost  in  them  crooked  windings.  On  rising 
ground  in  Washington-square  I come  upon  their  Seaman's  . 
Home  : a large  and  fine  establishment,  in  a quiet  quarter  of  the  'il 
town,  some  distance  from  the  fashionable  and  noisiest  side  to- 
wards  State-streets  and  Washington,  which  is  the  street  of  J 1 
Boston,  where  everybody  may  be  seen — belles  and  beaux,  the  :oi 
finest  shops,  the  greatest  crowd.  It  is,  perhaps,  two  miles  ;"n 
long,  running  out  to  Boxbury ; always  full  of  omnibuses,  and 


lit 


carts,  and  carriages  ; with  almost  as  much  noise  and  bustle  as 


iiti 


in  the  Broadway  at  New  York.  It  takes  the  length  of  the 


town  parallel  with  the  lower  side  of  the  common,  from  which  . 
it  is  sejiarated  by  short  intersecting  streets.  On  and  round  Jl: 
the  common  being  the  fashionable  circle ; here  are  the  finest 
houses — as  round  our  own  Green  Park,  their  value  and  their 
rents,  by  the  way,  exceeding  our  London  rates,  if  I except 
those  of  our  nobility. 

There  are  several  excellent  markets ; but  the  chief  one  of 
Faneuil,  near  the  custom-house,  under  Faneuil-hall,  displays 
an  amazing  variety  of  all  sorts  of  good  things  ; while  outside 
of  it,  round  the  square,  is  filled  by  country  wagons  with  every 
conceivable  produce.  The  end  of  the  market  next  the  water 
is  set  apart  lor  fish ; and  here  one  sees  loads  of  their  great 
halibut,  a kind  of  giant  turbot,  weighing  one  and  two  hundred 
poiuids ; it  is,  and  deserves  to  be,  a great  favourite.  Most 
eatables  here  are  extremely  moderate  in  price,  compared  with 
the  south  or  with  ourselves.  This  fish  for  instance,  was 


GEEEDINESS  OE  SINGEES  AND  ATTTHOKS. 


175 


gelling  wholesale  to  the  dealers  on  the  wharf  (at  a kind  of 
-auction)  at  three  cents  the  pound ; though  I hear  in  the 
'market  it  is  sometimes  retailed  as  high  as  fourteen  cents.  Lob- 
sters, too,  are  very  plentiful,  sold  by  weight,  at  five  cents  the 
bound;  in  London,  I think,  we  pay  at  the  rate. of  Is.  or 
Ls.  6d.  the  pound.  This  scale  might,  perhaps,  be  carried  out 
-,m  many  necessaries  and  luxuries  in  both  markets,  except  in 
vegetables,  where  we  have  the  advantage,  not  only  in  cheap- 
less  and  plenty,  but  variety ; but  this  only  holds  good  com- 
pared with  London.  We  have  no  country  town  or  seaport, 
(lot  even  Liverpool,  equal  to  the  larger  American  cities  ; in 
-hat  crowd,  bustle,  profusion,  the  number  of  carriages  of  all 
; finds  filling  the  streets  and  wharves,  the  numbers  of  theatres 
md  places  of  amusement  constantly  filled ; in  a word,  those 
-signs  of  general  ease  and  wealth,  the  infallible  sign  of  a general 
. prosperity.  Boston  hitherto,  on  principle,  has  discounte- 
lanced  theatres,  music,  and  most  places  of  amusement.  The 
• ipper  circles,  content  with  a quiet  tea-drinking  intercourse. 
But  of  late  years  this  puritanical  spirit  throughout  the  New 
. England  States  is  more  or  less  broken  through  by  the  rising 
generation,  and  the  German  and  French  lighter  spirit  of  har- 
mony, which  one  finds  pervading  more  or  less  the  whole  Union. 

. The  popular  “ Germanic  Band”  here  is  heard  everywhere,  and 
Herman  naturalised  citizens  have  much  influence  in  all  their 
hties.  Boston,  too,  has  its  Barnum ; an  immense  museum, 
where,  as  in  all  then’  cities,  the  stage  performances  commence 
nthe  evening.  At  another  theatre  Mrs.  Forrest  is  acting  to 
crowded  houses  ; the  whole  Union  taking  part  in  her  conten- 
:ion  with  her  husband,  much  in  the  same  way  such  things 
ire  canvassed  in  England.  I went  one  night,  but  found  her 
icting  extremely  insipid;  and  the  play,  the  “Patrician 
Daughter,”  stuffed  with  false  sentiment,  killingly  dull  and 
ibsurd;  but  the  Americans  can  swallow  even  more  vapid 
fulness  and  improbable  trash  than  even  we  ourselves  ; bideed, 
whatever  has  been  puffed  into  notice  in  London  is  brought 
>ut  immediately  here  ; all  the  inanities  of  our  modern  drama- 
tists. Subscriptions  are  set  on  foot,  as  at  New  York,  to  build 
,i  grand  opera-house ; another  year  will  most  likely  see  it  in 
Till  play,  with  its  Grisi  and  Mario,  and  all  that  greedy, 
mechanical,  worn-out  set  of  Italians,  who  have  so  long  fleeced 
rar  fashionable  world  and  ruined  our  managers.  Next  to  the 
heatres  come  lectures,  concerts,  and  night  book  auctions ; 
)ut  I find,  except  in  a few  reprints  of  expensive  English 
vorks,  not  so  cheap  or  so  well  got  up  by  any  means  as  our 
>wn.  In  this  respect  there  is  a great  change  for  the  worse 
vithin  these  last  twenty  years  ; partly  owing  of  late  to  the 
•xcessive  care  our  middling,  conceited,  modern  authors  have 
aken  to  prevent  the  public  reading  then’  works  at  too  cheap 


17G 


childeen’s  festival  mayday. 


a rate ; as  if  tlie  “ piracy”  complained  of  were  not  an  lionon 
and  as  if  the  excessive  sums  paid  those  in  vogue  for  the 
writings  by  our  publishers  were  not  ridiculously  beyond  the 
money  value.  » 

Boston  has  been  too  often  described  to  allow  me  to  dwe 


ilia 


lb 


much  on  its  general  features ; for  its  site  it  may  be  called  tl  Jjj 
Venice  of  the  States.  It  is  crowded  with  large  churches  an 
chapels,  each  crowned  by  handsome  spires.  The  public  buik 


in 


Ea 


Ea 


!>: 


ki 


ings  are  very  numerous,  not  reckoning  the  numbers  < 
immense  hotels  which  are  really  public  buildings.  The 
boast,  too,  with  good  reason,  of  their  numerous  excellei 
schools  and  institutions,  many  of  them  purely  philanthrope 
Their  Sailors’  Home  in  Washington-square  is  conspicuous 
and  their  penitentiary,  and  lunatic  asylums,  and  for  the  blinc 
beyond  South  Boston.  When  rambling  one  day,  I stumble 
on  the  breastwork  of  the  old  fort  thrown  up  when  they  wer 
fighting  against  the  mother  country ; much  as  it  was  in  th 
last  century,  and  among  the  few  remaining  primitive  feature  {) 
of  the  land;  for  the  town  is  spreading  in  all  direction 
and  here  their  pleasant  hills  are  cutting  away  for  mor 
streets 

May-day  turns  out  rainy  and  cold ; but,  hi  spite  of  th 
weather,  I was  delighted  to  see  the  processions  of  the  childre 
of  the  female  schools.  It  was  a fete  day  at  these  establish 
ments,  and  all  the  little  lively  things,  dressed  neatly,  ha< 
wreaths  of  flowers  (real  or  artificial)  on  then  heads ; variou 
halls  were  filled  by  them,  and  their  parents,  and  lady  visitors 
There  was  a grand  breakfast  given  by  the  ladies  in  the  suburb 
at  Koxbury.  Thirty  omnibuses  were  engaged  to  take  ou 
their  guests  at  five  in  the  morning.  Speeches  were  made 
bands  of  music  attended,  and  later  in  the  day  I saw  vario 
groups  of  them  at  play  in  parties  on  the  common.  I coulc 
not  help  thinking  how  much  better  this  was  than  our  “ Jacks 
in-the-green”  and  tinselled  importuning  masquerading  ; for 
alas!  we  have  no  longer  any  May -poles,  any  festivals,  o: 
any  dancing,  for  the  million.  So  much,  indeed,  did  thi 
spirit  of  the  day  pervade  the  whole  town,  that  I observed  tin 
poorer  children  in  the  suburbs  wearing  wreaths  of  shaving 
as  a substitute  for  flowers,  which  are  scarce  and  expensive 
just  now. 

Large  cities  have  numerous  manufactories,  of  course,  witl 
some  one  pre-eminent.  Here  they  are  famous  for  their  ship 
loads  of  pegged  boots  and  shoes  sent  all  over  the  Union,  anc 
all  over  the  world.  Their  brooms,  and  pails,  and  chairs,  an 
very  pretty  and  good  too,  and  all  equally  cheap — to  suit  th 
million. 

Like  ourselves,  the  Americans  have  no  genius  for  monu 
ments.  The  great  granite  obelisk  on  Bunker’s-hill 


(a 


THE  LIONS  OF  BOSTON. 


177 


I Charleston,  behind  the  naval  dockyard',  two  hundred  and 
1 thirty  feet  high,  is  an  ugly  affair,  with  nothing  to  recommend 
-it  but  its  solidity ; a staircase  winds  to  the  top,  and  you  pay 
a shilling  at  a small  wooden  office  near  the  door  to  go  up. 
1 An  extraordinary  thing,  this  paying ! but  they  had  great 
1 difficulty,  I believe,  in  getting  it  up  at  all,  by  private  subscrip- 
tions or  shares,  and  were  some  twenty  years  at  it;  it  stands 
-in  the  centre  of  a small  green  plot  and  intended  square ; this 
remote  suburb  now  surrounding  it  on  all  sides.  The  whole 
Ifront  of  the  city  is  crowded  constantly  by  all  sorts  of  vessels 
: going  and  coming.  Terry  steamers  start  every  few  minutes 
-from  the  slips  or  wharves  along  Commercial-street  over  to 
East  Boston,  across  the  harbour,  to  the  Eastern  and  North- 
- Eastern  Bailway  station.  There  are  two  other  regular  rail- 
-way  stations  at  the  foot  of  the  common  in  Balston-street  to 
-Providence,  another  to  Plymouth,  a third — the  Great  Nor- 
thern, or  Eitchburg — running  to  the  lakes  and  the  St.  Law- 
rence, a branch  crossing  the  Connecticut  to  the  Hudson  at 
'(Albany.  But,  indeed,  all  these  New  England  States  are 
‘ladding  every  year  to  their  railroads  in  every  direction ; one 
lakes  the  coast  line  to  New  York  by  Newhaven : galvanic 
-^ires  stretch  along  the  streets  on  poles  (as  in  all  then  cities), 
■land  thence,  through  all  the  eastern  states,  to  the  Ohio,  and 
-’down  as  far,  I think  now,  as  N ew  Orleans ; so  that  in  these 
^immense  distances  communications  are  instantaneous  along 
^the  track  of  their  railways,  which  now  interlace  the  Union  in 
'■ill  directions,  independent  of  sea  and  river  steam-boats, 
ffhough  they,  too,  still  multiply,  and  form  the  cheaper  transit 
'"or  passengers  and  goods,  combined  with  the  railways.  Thus 
’•  here  are  four  great  stations,  with  a chain  of  three  routes  to 
ew  York  and  the  south. 

'--J  The  Americans " are  famous  for  the  variety  of  their  drinks ; 
-•mint  juleps,  egg  nog,  spruce  beers,  syrups  of  all  soils,  and 
■•ced  waters ; their  famous  sherry  cobblers  seem  on  the 
Necline.  It  is  the  fashion  now  to  treat  ladies  to  ice  creams 
Avhen  walking ; there  are  several  of  these  lounges  at  large 
-bastry cooks  and  confectioners,  which  seem  good  for  nothing 
iilse.  The  pastry  is  very  inferior,  but  the  whole  shop  is 
billed  by  insipid  French  bon-bons,  while  their  ice-creams  are 
, nuch  dearer  and  inferior  to  ours. 

The  streets  are  full  of  omnibuses  running  in  all  directions, 
■>nd  beyond  the  suburbs,  as  ours  do,  to  the  adjacent  villages, 
*4.loxbury.  Canton,  Dorchester,  South  Boston,  Charleston, 
-Chelsea,  and  East  Boston,  Cambridge,  &c.  This  last  is  about 
■“four  miles  off,  on  the  road  to  Mount  Auburn  Cemetery,  one 
- f the  Boston  lions  people  are  taken  to  two  or  three  miles 
-fjieyond  the  taverns  and  hotels  where  the  city  omnibuses  stop, 
qi  this  interminable,  straggling  university  village.  Coming 


178 


MOUNT  AUBURN — TOMBS. 


to  it,  one  sees  nothing  of  Mount  Auburn  but  its  own  tr 
tops.  It  is  a young  wood,  or  grove,  of  110  acres,  judicious  (*f 
laid  out  in  avenues,  which  are  named  after  the  prevailing  tre'  *S1 
and  shrubs  they  are  cut  through ; oak,  fir,  willow,  pin  P1' 
cypress,  cedar.  Spaces  on  either  side  are  cleared  for  tl 
graves  and  tombs ; a handsome  Gothic  chapel  stands  on 
gently  rising  ground  in  the  centre.  There  are  already  a got  58 
many  remarkable  tombs  and  monuments,  all  of  pure  whi  >] 
marble  down  to  the  smallest  tombstone.  In  these  last  silei  11,1 
mementos  there  is  generally  much  good  taste  ; often  a class  p 
elegance  and  grace ; so,  too,  in  the  inscriptions.  I observe  N 
one,  “To  our  Mother;”  another,  “My  Brother.”  Th 
indeed  carries  brevity  to  obscurity;  but  even  where  a fe  ft 
lines  express  some  departed  excellence  or  present  sorrow  ® 
they  cannot  be  read  a yard  off,  they  are  so  slightly  cut  in  tl  111 
white  marble.  r 

One  is  more  apt  to  be  struck  by  incongruities.  One  ma:  8 
with  an  immense,  expensive,  elaborate  monument,  who  die  p 
at  Borne,  has  his  father  and  mother  piously  on  each  side  i ft 
him,  with  veiy  small  humble  tomb-stones ; this  sets  one  'tl 
teeth  on  edge  ; while  a Lieutenant  Something  has  a towerin  r'J 
obelisk  paling  the  lustre  of  a Washington’s  ! Oh ! vanity  < ® 
vanities ! Thus  do  the  living  burlesque  the  dead,  even  i lh 
their  graves,  with  discordant  affectations  ; but  this  is  seen  a 81 
over  Europe.  The  carriages  of  the  “ proprietors”  alone  ai 11 
allowed  to  enter  and  drive  through  the  avenues.  A larg *' 
board  at  the  porter’s  lodge  displays  many  other  wise  an  » 
stringent  regulations  ; among  others,  it  is  forbidden  to  pluc 11 
the  flowers,  “ wild  or  cultivated.”  The  last,  however,  wei  1 
in  no  danger,  I should  think,  as  I did  not  see  one  in  an  8 
direction.  Beturning,  I walked  round  by  Chelsea  and  tk  ■ 
navy-yard,  where  they  have  two  fine  ships  on  the  stocks,  an  1“ 
a line-of-battle  guard-ship  in  ordinary  (her  complement,  8 
thousand  men).  8 

The  Cumberland  frigate  lay  at  the  yard  ready  for  sea,  In 8 
nobody  allowed  to  go  on  board,  from  a fear  of  the  men  deser  1 
ing ; the  approach  guarded  by  a sentinel ; all  other  parts  < 
the.  yard  perfectly  free  of  access  to  everybody. 

While  at  Boston  I made  two  excursions— a short  one  t 
Lowell  (the  United  States  Manchester),  famous  for  its  “ youn 
laity”  operatives  in  cotton ; another  by  the  way  of  New  Loi 
don  to  Long  Island ; a track  seldom  taken  by  our  touristi 
But  let  me  first  say  a word  or  two  of  Lowell,  a large,  banc 
some  city,  of  25,000  or  30,000  souls,  beautifully  situated  o 
the  Merrimac  Biver,  a rapid,  noble  stream ; a range  of  prett 
hills  sweep  round  it  to  the  north  and  east,  losing  themselves  i 
the  blue  tints  of  more  distant  mountains.  It  is  impossible  t 
fancy  a more  picturesque  spot.  A smaller  river  here  beloi 


LOWELL — COTTON  MILLS. 


179 


?ae  body  of  the  town  joins  tbe  Merrimae,  and  both  combined 
ire  endless  water-power  to  the  cotton  factories ; the  mill- 
rsjreams  rushing  through  the  town  in  all  directions. 

3 There  are  a great  many  factories,  enormous  brick  buildings 
five  and  six  stories  ; in  one  I counted  120  windows  on  a 
; lgle  side.  I was  shown  but  one,  the  Hamiltons.  I conclude 
;;,jjese  spinning  hives  are  all  more  or  less  on  one  plan,  and 
;ijW  are  indescribable,  even  if  I knew  anything  about  the 
islatter.  I was  taken  to  various  floors,  where  the  noise  of  the 
uiules  and  jennies  I found  indeed  stunning.  How  do  human 
veilings  ever  get  used  to  it  ? The  young  girls  smiled  at  my 
Ulsty  and  somewhat  ungallant  retreat,  putting  my  hands  to 
idy  ears.  One  can  hardly  judge  by  such  short  appearances  ; 
jitjose  I saw  were  of  course  in  their  working  dresses,  their 
mnets  and  green  veils  hung  up.  They  all  looked  very  pale, 
r did  I happen  to  see  one  I should  have  called  handsome, 
a fine  girl,  though  no  doubt  there  is  the  usual  proportion 
14  personal  beauty.  The  hour  of  dinner  was  scarcely  over  ; I 
t some  of  them  in  the  streets  going  to  work  in  groups,  all 
e[th  a kind  of  young  lady  air,  or  as  if  tradesmen’s  daughters 
■11  off,  not  that  their  dresses  were  particularly  neat,  but  the 
‘iinet  and  veil,  and  their  carriage,  impressed  me  as  some- 
g new  in  these  Hew  World  fair  operatives.  It  was,  how- 
r,  gratifying  ; all  bear  testimony  to  their  modest  demea- 
ur.  But  what  an  odd  thing,  that  cannot  surely  last,  a whole 
wn  full  of  young  girls,  under  the  control  of  nobody  in  par- 
arular,  boarding  together  here  and  there,  some  with  them 
ncJrents,  some  alone. 

.They  read  a good  deal,  I’m  told,  at  their  leisure  hours,  but 
uyiefly  trashy  novels ; and  no  town  in  America  is  so  full  of 
guerreotype-portrait  artists,  doctors,  and  doctor-dentists. 
3]i(ieatres,  concerts,  and  evening  lectures  at  the  town  hall,  and 
rers,  tell  their  own  story.  Just  now  there  is  a slackness  in 
e trade,  and  a good  many  are  on  reduced  work,  or  wages 
vo  to  three  dollars  a week),  and  many  unemployed. 

If  I can  judge  by  the  specimens  I saw  here,  and  in  the 
-ston  shops,  of  their  cottons  and  their  printing,  it  struck  me 
extremely  inferior  to  ours  ; coarser,  and  old  or  tasteless 
e tittems ; but  their  chief  aim,  I think,  is  to  undersell  us  in 
al’eign  markets  where  the  quality  and  taste  is  not  appre- 
,ted.  Without  their  tariff,  every  factory  in  the  States 
4uld  be  shut  up  in  a day.  Strange  they  should  so  little 
nd derslaud  them  dearest  interests!  However,  here  is  an 
oiHonourable”  Mr.  Horace  Mann  (what  an  antithesis  to 
;ffalpole’s),  who  speechifies  to  these  poor  girls  at  the  town 
. II  to  prove  that  England  is  to  be  beaten  in  cotton  fabrics ; 
■ tjd  every  mow  and  then  their  Magnus  Apollo,  Mr.  Secretary 
Webster,  comes  among  them  for  the  same  purpose.  All 
i?2 


180 


SITUATION  OF  THE  TOWN. 


chaff ; hut  it  is  mixed  with  sly  hits  at  our  inequalities,  ano 
lies,  aud  distresses,  and  everlasting  puffing  of  Columbi 
apropos  of  anything  and  nothing — always  acceptable. 

As  the  streets  are  wide,  and  the  numerous  factories  sta 
ing  in  extensive  grounds,  the  town  spreads  to  a great  ext< 
with  the  usual  numbers  of  churches,  chapels,  halls,  hot 
hospitals,  colleges,  free-schools,  a great  museum,  a thea 
and  amphitheatre — the  town  is  on  a plain,  so  that  coming 
the  railway,  whose  depot  was  partly  over  a mill-race,  it  is 
easy  to  form  a good  idea  of  the  general  features  of  the  ph 
To  this  end  I crossed  the  smaller  river,  from  the  west,  to 
nearest  hills,  on  the  south,  on  the  Boston  road,  when 
reservoir  crowns  their  crest ; about  a mile  beyond  the  s 
urbs.  Here  I looked  down  on  the  rivers,  the  town,  and 
mountains,  fading  in  the  distance ; the  day  bright,  the  fly 
shadows  of  the  clouds  gave  a richness  to  the  soft  colours 
the  infinitely  varied  tints,  making  the  picture  exquis: 
How  pure  the  health-breathing  pleasure  of  the  hills ! 1 
and  the  ingenuity  of  man  soon  tires,  even  in  their  nobl 
flights  ; the  mind  looks  back  over  the  earth,  to  Bor 
Athens,  Thebes,  or  to  single  boasted  efforts,  descending  fr 
the  Pyramids  to  the  Colosseum,  to  the  Walhalla,  and  mode 
art  academies  ; even  down  to  an  art-union : — are  they  adi 
rable  ? Yes,  but  they  are  tiresome,  and  we  are  tired  of  tin 
long  before  we  growr  old.  Our  last  inimitable  Exhibition 
the  World’s  Fair,  did  but  worry  and  fatigue  us  at  last ; p 
on  the  sense,  hurt  the  eyes,  confuse  the  senses — while  simj 
nature  here  and  everywhere  in  this  beautiful  world — t 
woods,  the  rivers,  and  the  fields,  the  hills  and  dales,  lit  a 
embellished  by  the  glorious  heavens  above,  refresh  for  ev 
regale,  instruct,  delight ; or  watch  the  setting  orb  of  day,  1 
the  blue  heavens  shine  in  the  glorious  galaxy  of  other  work 
mysterious  ; lifting  the  soul  to  ecstasy  and  silent  prayer  u 
speakable  in  gratitude  to  God. 

Long  I sat  on  this  lull-side,  but  not  till  night,  as  it  w 
necessary  to  return  by  the  train  to  Boston.  A covered  brid 
crosses  the  Merrimac  as  it  rushes  by  the  town  in  a series 
rapids.  Several  pretty  villas  and  cottages  are  sprinkled  alo 
its  banks.  Nowhere  in  the  States  have  I been  so  tempted 
envy  people  their  suburban  retreats  as  here  among  tin 
cotton-mills. 

At  the  station  I regaled  myself  with  a slice  of  apple-pie, 
four  cents,  and  by  the  next  train  returned  to  Boston,  ve 
glad  to  have  seen  and  formed  a true  idea  of  Lowell  and 
factories  ; yet  the  real  present  history  of  the  place  remains 
be  told — by  some  inhabitant. 

As  the  Americans  are  even  more  active  than  we  are 
England,  more  restless,  equally  curious,  nobody  can  compla 


STAET  FOE  LONG  ISLAND. 


181 


: want  of  facilities  for  travelling  all  over  tlie  Union.  Com- 
■^vts  are  out  of  the  question ; but  the  expense  is  very  mocle- 
fce,  and  the  rough  elbowing  in  a crowd  is  of  no  consequence 
J men.  Nothing,  indeed,  is  seriously  annoying  to  persons 
~T>t  used  to  it,  except  the  spitting  everywhere  in  the  cars,  or 
the  steamers — no  spot  is  sacred.  Their  clirty  bank-notes, 
')erywhere  at  a discount,  often  refused,  often  good  for 
-'I'thiug  (the  distant  bank  broke),  was  another  annoyance  not 
V be  laughed  at. 

d (Returned  to  Boston,  I started  for  Long  Island,  by  the 
Ily  way,  of  Providence  and  New  London,  on  the  coast 
Vposite,  on  the  Sound.  I was  rather  late  at  the  “ depot” 
Station),  at  the  foot  of  the  common,  and  the  bank-note  I 
! : .ought  a good  one  was  at  once  peremptorily  rej  ectecl.  Seasons 
‘ ere  superfluous.  They  took  my  sovereign — sovereigns  are 
■ speeded ; fare  to  Providence,  forty  miles,  5s.  3d.  I never 
' add  understand  the  Boston  currency  (a  dollar  and  a quarter) 
•^-giving  me  more  dirty  ragged  notes  in  change.  In  vain  I 
egged  for  silver  ; it  is  more  scarce  than  gold. 

® We  soon  shot  across  the  viaduct  over  the  inner  waters,  and 
:■  trough  a picturesque,  stony,  woody  country,  full  of  villages 
lid  farms,  small  lakes  and  streams,  and  reach  Providence  in 
% hour  and  a half.  It  is  a considerable  city,  at  the  head  of 
1 deep  inlet  of  the  sea.  Coasting  vessels  come  up  to  it,  and 
-■[•rmerly  the  large  New  York  steamers  ; but  since  the  rail- 
had  has  been  continued  fifty  miles  farther  along  the  coast  to 
Ijtonington,  they  meet  the  cars  there ; avoiding  so  much  of 
’ lis  dangerous  coast  of  shoals,  rivers,  rocks,  and  rough  seas, 
h carriage  at  the  station  obligingly  takes  me  (paying  for  the 
(ime)  to  the  City  Hotel,  where  I dined,  and  proceeded  on  by 
new  set  of  cars.  In  a two  hours’  run  we  find  ourselves  at 
1 le  very  water’s  edge  at  the  terminus  at  Stonington,  close 
[ eside  the  fine  steamer  Vanderbilt.  She  started  for  New 
ork  at  eight  in  the  evening,  the  udncl  and  waves  exceedingly 
’ mgh,  the  prospect  of  a tossing  in  the  tumultuous  sound — 
here  I was  once  very  near  lost — not  at  all  inviting,  so  I 
ent  to  the  nearest  small  railway  tavern  for  the  night; 
'asides,  these  steamers,  though  they  run  down  the  whole 
ngth  of  Long  Island,  stop  at  none  of  its  towns.  My  only 
dance  here  was  by  a small  steamer  to  New  London,  not  far 
ff  (fifteen  miles),  and  thence  across  hi  another  steamer  to 
-reenport.  But  the  moment  you  quit  the  great  highways, 
id  the  great  flock  of  travellers  in  the  States,  facilities  cease, 
Oppositions  cease,  and  the  one  boat  or  one  stage  take  a won- 
!rous  latitude  in  time  and  tyranny. 

Stonington  is  a small  village,  suddenly  forced  into  conse- 
uence  by  the  railway — a few  small  board  houses,  graced  by 
l immense  and  handsome  hotel,  built  perhaps  originally  for 


182 


railway  to  stonington. 


iy 


I* 


gal 


itli 


F? 


sea-bathing  people  in  the  season.  The  whole  place  is  ii  , 
transition  state.  In  one  short,  year  hence  it  will  be,  no  don 
a large  town,  if  the  railway  stops  short  here  (and  it  is  not 
easy  to  get  it  across  these  rivers  and  coast  estuaries),  and  i 
steamers  continue  to  meet  it. 

The  weather  was  very  cold,  and  the  stove  very  comfc  **? 
able,  as  I sat  in  a neat  little  parlour  with  the  landlady  a 
her  lady  friends.  Here  I saw  a most  beautiful  and  singu 
flowering  tropical  plant,  with  glossy  leaves ; she  called  it  1 
wax-plant.  Its  coroneted  head  almost  touched  the  ceilii 
“ 0„  fie,  what  the  ignorance  is!”  I must  study  botaDy. 
embarked  the  next  morning  on  board  the  little  steamer  Ch 
copee,  on  her  arrival  from,  and  immediate  return  to,  H 
London.  It  blew  hard,  though  fine,  and  our  passage  w 
excessively  severe  ; at  one  moment  she  pitched  so  heavily 
to  threaten  her  breaking  in  two ; the  women,  though  h 
sailors,  all  sea-sick.  The  captain  contemplated  giving  it  r 
and  returnmg,  we  hung  so  long  off  a certain  point  to  the  e; 
of  this  Hew  London  river  Thames.  Happily  we  got  roun 
and  out  of  this  villanous  sound,  which  seems  to  set  its  fa  ^ 
constantly  against  my  floating  on  its  bosom.  TV  e pass  I 
Washington,  a beautiful  battery,  set  prettily  in  its  gre 
glacis,  commanding  the  river  ; and  are  soon  fast  at  the  toy 
wharf,  amidst  innumerable  ships,  schooners,  and  sloops 

Hew  London  partakes  of  the  features  of  all  the  Hew  JEn 
land  towns,  except  at  the  water-side  ; a mixture  of  town  ai 
country — churches,  chapels,  halls,  and  villas  standing 
their  own  ample  grounds,  or  with  plenty  of  elbow-room  arl 
ornamental  weeping  willows,  iu  wide  rocky  or  sandy,  or  il 
paved  streets. 

Some  rich  fellow  is  building  a most  gloriously  costly  ai 
fantastic  house,  in  stone,  and  his  neighbour  builds  just  su< 
another  near  him,  in  wood  • the  extravagance  of  expense 
laughed  at ; their  whalers  have  had  good  catches  of  fish, 
some  other  spec ! They  are  great  South  Sea  whalers  her 
abouts — Portsmouth,  Ledford,  Hewport,  Sagg  Harbou 
Mystic,  Fall  Iiiver,  &c.,  but  their  spirit  of  adventure  and  th 
ships  are  every  where.  This  year,  however,  they  hear  of  loss! 
wrecks,  no  fish,  or  half  cargoes. 

All  these  small  States  and  towns  are  the  stronghold 
fanaticism  and  teetotalism,  but  it  is,  as  at  Boston,  forced 
give  way  before  the  rising  generation,  which  here,  in  He 
London,  is  extremely  fast  and  noisy.  They  have  as  yet  1 
theatre,  but  make  a certain  “ Abor  llall”  do  duty.  A strol 
ing  company  of  actors  are  at  the  City  Hotel,  where  I toe 
up  my  quarters  much  longer  than  I found  at  all  agreeabl 
There  was  a concentration  of  smoking  and  chewing,  with  tl 
usual  vile  accompaniments : more  intense  and  offensive  tin 


NEW  LONDON — ON  THAMES  ! 


183 


jliad  yet  seen  anywhere.  The  Hall,  in  spite  of  being  half 
illed  by  the  fair  sex,  was  no  exception.  During  the  perform- 
; ice  the  young  men  stood  up,  or  lay  at  full  length;  or  play- 
• illy  wrestled  on  the  benches,  making  all  sorts  of  noises.  In 
ain  the  strolling  manager  begged  for  silence  and  a little 
[Ocency,  under  the  threat  of  leaving  off ; quite  unsupported 
,y  the  more  staid  and  decorous  part  of  the  audience,  which 

- ore  it  all,  as  if  quite  used  to  this  sort  of  licence.  At  all  these 
imaller  towns  one  sees  how  a perfect  equality  works — there 
re  no  gentry,  nor  any  people ; though  plenty  of  tolerably 
oor  persons  getting  a precarious  living.  You  sit  at  table 
,'ith  working  people  (putting  a coat  on);  nobody  is  a servant 
.r  a pauper  ; in  short,  anybody  and  everybody  who  can  pay 
,or  their  dinner ; anybody  walks  into  any  sitting-room,  often 

- ;rith  their  hats  on.  In  the  same  way  in  the  Hall,  there  was 
10  sort  of  distinction — hardly  a proper  deference  to  the 

women  ; they,  indeed,  kept  at  a respectful  distance  from  the 
greater  noise  and  abominations  of  tobacco. 

These  strollers  only  ventured  on  farces — pretty  broad  ones. 
The  funniest  fellow,  Adams,  played  a favourite  slang  cha- 
racter— a real  go-a-head  down-easter.  These  “ critturs”  by 
prescription  are  always  dressed  in  a red  head  of  long  hair  (like 
-;he  French  clowns),  long-tailed  coat,  very  short  trousers,  and 
shocking  bad  hat.  There  was  a dance,  and  a funny  song,  of 
course  (with  his  pretty  wife),  not  without  humour ; the  burden 
aof  which  ran : 

Wife.  And  will  you  love  me  now  as  then  ? 

Man.  Shouldn’t  wonder,  shouldn’t  wonder  ! 

Wife.  What  if  I flirt  with  other  men  ? 

Man.  No,  by  thunder — no,  by  thunder ! 

(Set,  and  change  sides.) 

(This  met  with  uproarious  applause.  The  one  fiddler  to  this 
.performance,  by  the  same  token,  played  most  vilely  out  of 
[tune.  The  weather  was  dreadful — blowing,  snowing,  and 
raining.  I had  a fixed  purpose  in  going  to  Long  Island ; and 
(for  days  no  steamer  ventured  out,  nor  is  the  passage  regular; 

' so  I embarked  on  board  a small  sloop  with  fourteen  others, 
(.ten  of  whom  had  at  least  exercised  half  a dozen  trades  by 
[ turns.  One  young  fellow  was  now  clerk  to  a citizen  Irish 
itinerant  auctioneer,  who  had  been  captain  of  a coaster,  farmer, 
' soldier,  joiner,  and  horse-dealer ! Two  youths,  with  their 
] young  wives  and  fowling-pieces,  were  on  a frolic,  going  over 
to  Plum  Island  “ a-gunning,”  to  shoot  rabbits.  The  sound 
is  full  of  rocky  islands,  with  perhaps  one  hut  and  family,  or 
none. 

We  beat  over  in  the  teeth  of  a gale  of  wind  and  very  rough 
sea.  We  were,  however,  safe  enough,  for  these  boats  swim 
like  ducks,  and  are  handled  by  two  or  three  men  (including 


184 


SAGG  HAEBOTTK. 


L,  W 


lent  1® 


tk  back 1 


Sip) 


tioi'tn1 


the  captain;  this  the  Harriet,  Captain  Harris),  with  then1 1: 
mense  sails,  in  the  most  masterly  manner;  hut  nothing  shor|w 
tempt  a traveller  to  trust  the  American  coast  late  in  t. 
autumn,  or  too  early  in  the  spring.  I forgot  to  mention,  th 
among  other  handy  contrivances  I was  struck  by  the  way  t’ 
fishmongers  keep  their  fish  alive  in  floating  safes  at  t’ 
wharves  ; fishing  them  up  when  wanted.  Not  far  off  eig  i 
men  were  moving  a large  frame  house  on  rollers  : and  anothc 
at  the  foot  of  High-street,  was  breaking  up  and  clearing  await#*!3, 
with  a vigour  and  promptitude  never  seen  in  Europe. 

Long  Island,  which  is  more  than  a hundred  miles  in  lengt 
and  ten  to  fifteen  wide,  is  most  singularly  formed  at  its  nortl  list 
eastern  end  : it  encloses  a vast  deep  bay,  in  shape  somethin 
like  the  claws  of  a lobster,  full  of  small  islands.  Nothi 
can  be  imagined  more  happily  contrived  for  the  purposes 
shelter,  fishing,  and  intercommunication. 

We  ran  into  Greenport,  a small  town  on  the  inner  claw,  t liii 
which  there  is  a railroad  from  New  York  (Brooklyn)  clirec  M 
(carried  out,  as  usual,  to  the  water’s  edge),  along  the  centr  Sniper 
of  the  island ; to  which  I have  alluded  early  in  my  tour.  I Moi® 
is  full  of  towns,  villages,  and  farms.  The  inhabitants  are  eartkt 
good  many  shades  more  settled,  quiet,  and  primitive  tha;  iotha 
then1  fellow  New  Yorkers  across  the  east  river;  which  divide  ickolai 
them.  at  clis 

Generally,  this  fine  island  is  highly  cultivated ; and  thej  Sal 
have  every  facility  by  land  and  water  to  the  New  York  marke  ifhick 
for  all  their  surplus  grain  and  cattle.  Londi 

It  blew  and  rained  so  hard  that  we  were  forced  to  reman  Sas 
at  the  wooden  wharf  all  night,  leaving  our  young  gunners  anc  ling 
their  better  halves  at  the  Picconic  Hotel,  where  I slept,  liws 
nothing  loth,  tired  of  the  day’s  tossing.  By  daylight  we  were  tike 
off  again,  to  beat  up  under  Shelter  Island,  to  Sagg  Harbour,  like! 
fifteen  miles  farther  up  ; it  being  the  head  of  my  lobster.  id 
All  these  towns  and  villages  have  a close  resemblance,  not  sai 
only  in  New  England  but  all  over  the  States.  The  business  liip 
street  or  streets  next  the  wharves,  of  brick  houses,  the  rest  of  mo 
the  town  straggling  par,  in  wide  streets,  unpaved,  and  shaded  ide 
by  the  weeping  willow  ; the  houses  large  and  handsome,  in  oe 
frame,  boarded  and  painted  white,  with  green  Venetian  me: 
shutters,  most  of  them  standing  in  then’  own  small  gardens  101 
and  grounds,  surrounded  by  neat  wooden  palings  ; several  fa 
churches  and  chapels,  mostly  wooden,  spires  and  all,  and  of  iitl 
large  dimensions.  The  largest  here  is  remarkably  handsome, 
most  elaborate  in  ornament,  graceful,  and  in  good  taste.  In 
its  yard,  now  grown  old  and  venerable ; as  much  so  as  such 
things  are  apparently  in  England,  not  searching  beyond  two 
hundred  years,  I looked  in  vain  for  the  grave  of  one  once  near 
and  dear  to  me  ; but  six-and-thirty  years  is  a fearful  time  to. 


h 


LONG  ISLAND. 


185 


jook  back  on.  Children  of  that  day  I see  about  the  streets 
how  middle-aged  people  ; the  high-blooded  youth,  and  beauty, 
.rid  manhood,  who  were  all  in  all,  then,  the  cream  of  the 
Community,  now,  hobbling  about  in  old  age,  or  long  since 
iiilent  beneath  my  feet — as  I sat  on  one  of  the  tombstones  ; 
ahe  bright  sun  had  reached  the  meridian  as  I looked  to  heaven 
4n  bitterness  of  soul — left  almost  alone  in  the  world  ! 

-1  I had  need  of  all  my  good  spirits  and  active  rude  health  to 
ipear  up  against  saddening  thoughts.  I murmured  to  myself, 
‘Can  it  be!  and  passing  like  a summer’s  cloud” — it  comes 
fro  this ! A good  large  school,  full  of  boys  and  girls,  were 
must  let  out,  and  skipped  joyously  along  the  road  by  me, 
indering  who  that  strange  old  man  could  be ! for  here  faces 
3 familiar ; all  are  known  more  or  less  to  each  other.  I 


Locked  at  the  door  of  a very  old  man,  still  alive  and  hearty, 


but  his  memory  was  gone.  A worthy  old  man  ! he  had  been 
rd  friend — had  borne  him  to  his  tomb,  helped  to  cover  him  up  ,■ 
Amt  the  spot  was  already  overgrown  for  a generation  with 
wuniper  ; he  could  not  say.  Singular  fate  ! And  I,  like  Old 
Mortality,  find  myself,  more  than  once,  wandering  over  the 
: parth  to  chisel  a memento  on  the  tombstone  of  those  I would 
mot  have  forgotten !— a man  of  rank  and  family — an  elegant 
'scholar — a wit — most  accomplished — of  noble  form — of  sweet- 
est disposition — 0 si  sic  omnia  1 
rjf  Sadly  disappointed,  I next  day  took  passage  by  the  steamer 
L'vhich  plies  to  Greenport ; thence  by  another,  return  to  New 
London,  and  so  back,  as  I came,  to  Boston, 
in  Sagg  Harbour  is  charmingly  situated  in  a gently  undula- 
ii  ,ing  country,  with  pleasant  walks  and  rides  about  it ; the 
dews  from  the  water-side  over  its  placid  waters  delightful, 
re  like  most  of  these  seaport  towns,  it  is  engaged  in  the  whale 
r,  ishery,  now  rather  on  the  decline  (as  it  was  over-done  by 
lumbers ; at  one  time  there  were  700  sail  in  the  Pacific).  It 
rt  s a ship-building  port,  too.  I saw  two  or  three  good  large 
s hips  on  the  stocks,  with  some  activity  in  them  yards,  and 
:f  ,mong  them  coasting  trade  and  fishing-smacks  at  the  water- 

i ide.  An  attempt  had  been  lately  made  at  cotton-factories, 
in  emulation  (encouraged  by  the  tariff)  of  the  New  England 

ii  >nes.  A large  brick  factory  was  built,  but  is  shut  up  ; and 
i o much  the  better.  In  a rural,  comfortable  community  like 
j his,  they  are  much  better  without  steam-engines,  smoke,  and 
i ickly  operatives. 

I forgot  to  say,  in  the  evening,  in  the  High-street,  I saw 
: he  Irish  citizen  auctioneer  hard  at  work  with  his  hammer 
nocking  down  lots — of  notions;  and  the  quondam  sea  cap- 
j ain  officiating  very  gravely  and  diligently  as  his  clerk  and 
r ssistant. 

j My  cabin  was  taken  on  board  a noble  ship,  the  North 


180 


A BETEOSPECTIVE  GLANCE. 


America,  a regular  liner  of  Train  and  Co.’s,  of  fifteen  hundre  jiu 
tons.  I preferred  returning  home  in  a sailing  vessel,  thoug  sl» 
one  of  the  lines  of  Liverpool  steam  mail  packets  call  here  an  B 
at  Halifax,  to  and  from  New  York,  every  two  weeks  ; hut  itil 
cannot  say  that  I like  steamers  of  any  description.  The  fires,  tk  n 
trembling  motion,  and  the  crowds  in  the  cabin  saloon,  would  i jii 
themselves  he  to  me  sufficient  reasons,  where  the  difference  c te 
time  is  immaterial ; some  five  or  six  "days  longer  only,  crossin  ini 
from  America ; as  westerly  winds  most  prevail,  and  passage  » 
are  sometimes  made  in  sixteen  days,  frequently  in  twenty  m 
besides  that,  it  is  but  half  the  expense ; with  a better  cabir  jot 
and  very  nearly  as  good  a table.  In  other  real  comforts,  toe  ji:i 
there  is  no  comparison.  In  these  vessels,  as  in  the  steamer?  jor 
the  cabins  are  fitted  up  in  a luxurious  profusion  of  mahogany  1 
bird’s  eye  satin  maple,  gilding,  mirrors,  and  shining  brass  » 
quite  regardless  of  expense — more  than  enough  to  satisfy  tlr  fc 
most  fastidious ; indeed,  I often  long  for  less  shining  ani  tl 
ornament — a little  plain  white  paneling  would  be  a relief—  ks 
for  all  ornament  soon  palls  upon  the  sense,  like  a man’s  owi  b 
pictures  and  frames,  or  his  gilt  velvet  paperings,  or  anything 
that  is  his. 

I find  myself  leaving  Boston  without  being  able  to  notice 
many  interesting  details  of  the  rapid  changes  which  are  taking 
place,  and  alter  the  face  of  so  many  tilings  from  year  to  year. 

I have  said  nothing  of  her  citizens,  hut  we  all  know  that  ii 
manners,  thought,  and  customs,  they  are  somewhat  more 
English  than  in  any  other  State  in  the  Union ; they  have  less 
of  that  drawl  one  hears  in  Philadelphia  and  New  York 
though  quite  as  many  Cockneyisms  as  we  laugh  at  in  oui 
Londoner’s  expressions,  with  some  supposed  advances  on  oui 
less  ambitious  discourse,  such  as  calling  the  cock  a “rooster,’ 
and  the  hoys  “ shying  a rock  ” 'at  each  other  instead  of  a stone 
which  they  “ didn’t  d’ought  to  do”  when  they  are  coming  “ tc 
home  ” from  school.  But  it  is  certain,  that  whatever  one 
remarks  in  America  as  odd  in  expression  or  in  customs,  may  be 
traced  to  ourselves,  by  simply  looking  back  a few  years,  ever 
no  farther  than  the  middle  of  last  century. 

What  is  it  all  but  the  dewdrop  on  the  lion’s  mane  ! lion 
very  much  one  sees  everywhere  over  this  grand  country  tc 
admire  ! If  it  were  alone  Boston,  well  may  they  call  her  the 
Granite  City,  the  Athens  of  their  proud  ^Republic,  seated  ai 
the  head  of  her  fine  bay  of  fifty  miles  extent,  full  of  islands  : 
an  archipelago  in  itself,  stretching  to  Cape  Anne,  and  com' 
prising  on  these  circling  rich  cultivated  shores  fifty  busy 
thriving  towns  and  villages,  whose  white-shinglecl  roofs  shine 
in  the  sun,  and  tell  of  comfort  and  plenty ; while  these  their 
waters  are  covered  by  the  milk-white  sails  of  their  coasters 
and  fishing-smacks,  pilot-boats  and  merchantmen.  Not  ii 


DEPAETUEE  FOE  EJTGEAND.  187 

Strain  do  these  shores  swarm  with  great  varieties  of  fish ; these 
4nch.es  are  diffused  around. 

4 But  my  particular  pohceman  (the  printer’s  devil)  tells  me 
t civilly  to  move  on  and  leave  this  pleasing  scene  behind  me  ; 
-Or  would  I dwell  here,  or  in  Cobb’s  Hole,  or  Tarpauline  Cove, 
-Or  in  Grey’s  Head,  among  the  curious  pure  descendants  of 
the  Indians  (below  the  cycle  of  Cape  Cod).  But  we  are 
hoarding  off  from  the  wharf  to  prevent  the  crew  from  leaving 
■ us  the  captain  has  been  at  so  much  pains,  expense,  and 
J trouble  in  getting  by  the  rad  last  night  from  Hew  York  ; for 
duot  a man  is  to  be  had  here  for  love  or  money.  The  Cumber- 
■«land  frigate  had  much  ado  to  get  away,  forty  men  short  of 
^complement. 

j|  Y'es,  we  are  to  part,  O gentle  reader ! Judge  how  sorry  I 
sJam,  since  I am  not  at  all  afraid  of  your  criticisms.  What 
Hshould  you  know  of  Cobb’s  Hole,  or  Martha’s  Vineyard? 
iivhere  the  grapes,  (if  any  at  all)  are  not  half  so  fine  as  the 
Tscuppernong  of  which  they  make  wine  in  Georgia  and  Ala- 
dbarna,  as  this  coast  is  too  cold  and  foggy  nine  months  of  the 
%ear  for  vineyards,  though  ten  degrees  south  of  England. 

But,  ere  I cease,  let  me  say  a word  to  those  who  have  been  at 
-nil  amused,  or  tried  to  trace  me  in  my  unconnected  wander - 
:5ings,  without  order  or  sequence.  Begging  ^pardon  is.  I fear, 

'■  of  little  use  for  the  meagreness  of  my  account  of  places 
^abruptly  left,  whde  half  I have  to  say  is  thrust  in  as  I go  on 
- board  some  steamer  on  the  move,  as  a man  does  forgotten 
■^essentials  into  his  carpet-bag — higgledy  piggledy. 

'£■  Indeed,  I feel  that,  whatever  humour  my  readers  are  in,  I 
p'myself  am  extremely  dissatisfied,  when  I look  back  at  my 
Ff journeyman’s  bungling  work,  to  find  myself,  invita  Minerva, 
i]  cutting  up  what . I intended  for  a fine  enduring  American 
»i  pine-tree  into  mere  Indian  choompa — chips,  only  to  light  (I 
to  hope)  other  people’s  fires  by. 

® In  a word,  travels  should  never  be  hacked,  cribbed,  cabined, 
k and  confined  in  this  way  to  make  one  small  cheap  volume, 
at  Boston  bay  and  harbour  is  full  of  steam  tugs,  strong,  effec- 
tive boats.  Their  plan  is  to  get  lashed  fast  out  of  sight  under 
'rtlie  counter  of  these  great  ships,  forming  one  body,  and  so 
to  running  them  out  beyond  the  nearest  islands,  to  the  roads 
io  seven  miles  below,  near  the  lighthouse,  where  they  lie 
sheltered  from  east  winds,  and  can  make  sail  to  sea  when 
s;  they  please.  We  were  towed  down  in  this  way  (better  than 
Jt'  on  our  more  clumsy  plan,  at  the  end  of  a long  hawser),  the 
>7  day  most  unpropitious,  blowing  from  the  east,  and  raining, 
it  We  were  taken  to  this  spot,  still  in  sight  of  Boston,  where  we 
;ii  anchored,  as  we  hoped,  only  for  the  night;  but  L’homme  pro- 
's pose  et  Dieu  dispose — there  we  lay  for  a whole  week  in  a 
in  I violent  east  gale  ! 


188 


DETAINED  BY  A GALE. 


poli 


We  are  anchored  near  Hull  and  Spectacle  Island,  sru 
rounded  by  a fleet  of  vessels  kept  prisoners  in  the  same  wa 
by  a fierce  eastern  gale.  This  Hull  consists  of  a house 
two,  and  a great  Hotel,  full  of  company  in  the  hot  seasoi 
who  come  here  to  bathe  and  enjoy  the  sea-breezes,  as  they  d 
at  Naliant,  another  rocky,  wild  island  it  is  the  fashion  t 
make  •themselves  merry  at. 

The  Boston  lighthouse  is  outside  of  us  some  three  or  fou 
miles  ; and  the  Cumberland  frigate,  detained  like  ourselves. 

We  are  about  twenty  at  the  cabin  table,  a pleasant  mistur 
of  Bostonians,  Germans,  English,  and  Irish,  presided  over  b’ 
our  good  Captain  Dunbar,  who  is  taking  his  wife  and  littli 
girl  with  him  to  see  England.  This  is  a very  everyday 
affair  ; but  I was  surprised  to  find  the  steerage  so  full  (fifty 
of  poor  people  going  home  again ; one  woman,  absolutely  £ 
pauper,  going  back  to  her  parish ! the  rest  returning  eithci 
unlucky  or  disappointed ; with  a few  to  visit  their  friends  and 
relations,  after  many  years’  absence. 

As  may  be  imagined,  we  were  not  a little  annoyed  and  im- 
patient at  this  awkward  gale,  instead  of  being  tkaukfid  and 
grateful  that  it  had  not  caught  us  outside.  So  the  days  wore 
wearily  away,  getting  a little  acquainted  with  each  other, 
After  all,  quite  as  well  off  as  if  we  had  come  down  to  this 
Hull  boarding-house  hotel  on  a party  of  pleasure,  .with  very 
likely  a better  table,  and  quite  as  much  comfort  and' exercise  ; 
for  most  of  these  islands  are  as  bare  as  one’s  hand  ; without  a 
tree,  or  a ride,  or  walk  in  any  direction,  beyond  the  circum- 
scribed beach : the  passage  steamers  bringing  them  their 
daily  food  and  their  daily  papers  from  Boston.  Our  particular 
tug  (belonging  to  Enoch  Train’s  house)  did  the.  same  for  us, 
his  son  or  his  clerks  coming  down  occasionally  to  enliven  us 
with  much  city  talk  and  a little  fruit. 

This  steam-tug  was  an  immensely  strong,  swift  boat,  -with  a 
double  screw : most  of  the  tugs,  if  not  all,  here,  have  banished 
paddles,  as  they  are  thus  enabled  to  come  close  alongside  with 
their  whole  force  employed  most  effectively. 

At  length  we  weigh,  and  stretch  away  for  England,  ho ! 
With  a last  glimpse  of  the  Cape  Cod  lighthouse,  we  dance  on 
the  open  ocean  surge  with  nothing  to  think  of  but  the  shoal 
of  St.  George,  300  miles  off,  lying,  however,  directly  in  our 
track,  and  by  all  means  to  be  avoided.  The  captain  told  us 
of  some  disastrous  wrecks  on  it,  in  spite  of  precaution  and 
experience. 

Our  ship  is  admirable ; we  often  ran  twelve  and  thirteen 
knots  under  royals,  and  on  a wind  which  obstinately  opposed 
us  nearly  the  whole  passage.  This  swiftness,  too,  without 
being  coppered,  and  the  bottom  not  at  all  clean,  as  the  captain 
found  out  when  some  of  his  own  countrymen  (I  thought)  rather 


K 


fill 


Li’ 


tic 


D 


HOME — BY  LIVERPOOL. 


189 


jibeat  us  as  we  forced  our  passage  up  Channel  between  the 
(Welsh  and  Wicklow  mountains.  This  betrayed  a curious 
(economy,  no  doubt  wise,  where  everything  is  so  ample  and 
jj  complete  on  board  these  ships.  They  meant  to  have  her  cop- 
I pered  at  Liverpool,  at  a less  expense  than  at  Boston  ! This 
t(jis  a cheerful  feature  in  our  increasing  intercourse  I was  glad 
to  hear  of. 

Now  that  it  is  too  late,  many  amusing  things  and  incidents 
on  our  passage  occur  to  me ; among  others  the  extreme 
^politeness  of  our  sable  steward,  Ginger  George,  who  would 
hT  always  insist  (as  he  showed  his  ivories  and  rolled  his  eyes)  on 
,,  handing  the  dishes,  or  a clean  plate,  with  a flourish— even 
if  when  we  had  a difficulty  in  .keeping  our  plates  on  the  table  at 
all,  or  when  he  himself  could  hardly  keep  his  feet — and  who, 
when  more  serene,  occasionally  punched  the  head  of  a stupid 
Liverpool  cabin  waiter,  who  was  not  sharp  enough.  We  had 
milk -in  quantities  the- whole  way,  kept  admirably  in  the  ice- 
house, as  were  all  our  joints,  chickens,  and  fish.  But  nothing 
-so  pleasantly  gets  rid  of  ennui  on  board  sliip  as  gentle  flirta- 
tions, which  never  fail  to  be  more  or  less  amusing,  both  to 
performers  and  lookers-on.  But  mum  ! it  is  a serious  matter 
for  some  novel  in  three  volumes.  Like  my  last  sea-captain, 
Dunbar  was  as  easy  as  a glove ; no  swearing,  no  noise,  no 
complaints  ; and  though  we  had  but  thirty  men,  this  immense 
ship  was  inimitably  sailed  and  manoeuvred ; not  only  many 
of  the  men,  but  his  two  mates  were  Englishmen,  freshly 
turned  citizens  of  America.  We  land  joyously  at  Liverpool 
in  twenty-seven  days. 

After  all,  how  beautiful  is  our  land  compared  with  what  I 
have  left,  Nearly  a month,  indeed,  had  elapsed,  but  in  the 
middle  of  May  hardly  a leaf  was  to  be  seen  on  the  trees,  or 
verdure  anywhere  on  the  New  England  shores  ; while  here, 
though  a particularly  cold  season,  the  whole  country  is  one 
mass  of  beauteous  foliage,  to  say  nothing  of  our  exuberant 
gardens,  sweet  flowers,  and  exquisite  lawns  and  parks — but 
all  sensations  are  enhanced  by  contrast ; long  rough  ocean 
passages  make  all  lands  delightful,  once  safe  from  the  mono- 
tony and  tedium  of  the  sea. 


T. 


END. 


LONDON: 

SAYILL  AND  EDWARDS,  PRINTERS,  CHAtDOS  STREET, 
COVENT  GARDEN. 


RESTORED  BY  v.; 
MARKING  & REPAIR  STAFF 
DA'TE:  ,1937 


917.3  Q.44T 
01 dm ix on 


319148 


Transatlantic  W anaermgs 


DATE 


917.3  Q44T 


ISSUED  TO 


^ \L  XV 


>» 

319148 


3 


■ 


